For most of my 20s, I largely existed to leave my mark upon the world and strike it rich. In order to achieve those goals, I labored through the day and voluntarily burned the midnight oil. In other words, I lived to work—how cliche of me!
As I approached 30, something happened. I experienced what I call my Montana Moment—cheesy, but catchy! I realized that my double life as a work-a-holic and present husband and father could no longer be sustained.
So I changed. I set strict boundaries on my time and never looked back. If I was going to be remarkable, I was going to have to do so in a set number of hours and no longer at the expense of my health, family, sleep, friendships, and self-improvement. (That change, by the way, was the catalyst behind my still unfinished book.)
Without realizing it, I had quietly resigned to being the best cog I could be in a very big machine—an idea endorsed by many of the world’s greatest thinkers. No longer did I need or even want to own or be the machine. I just wanted to be one of the good guys, even if that meant being infantry. And I didn’t want to repeat these popular mistakes.
Since that watershed moment, I have seen and appreciated a lot more sunsets, smelled a lot more roses, and have experienced a lot more fulfillment (and a lot less stress) in life. In fact, I get almost as excited about industrial room views as I do balcony ones.
As my father says, “being ordinary is a good thing so enjoy it. The fact is, we are all statistically average in most things, above average in a few things, and below average in many things.”
The goal for each of us, then, is to enjoy everyday experiences in an un-average way with our own spin on it. And a changed perspective is the only way to accomplish that.
I’m grateful for the perspective others have shared with me and hope the above might influence your perspective as well.