If you work hard on your job, you’ll make a living. If you work hard on yourself, you’ll make a fortune.
While I’ve not made a fortune, a reasonably comfortable life for my family is certainly an accomplishment I’m happy with in the last dozen years.
None of us know when our time is up, and the end is near. I feel that isn’t isn’t a morbid thought, it’s a wonderful anchoring reminder that not a single person will make it out of this alive. What we do with my life is a matter of choice, if survival and basic necessities are guaranteed.
What would I do if I had seven more years to live? That is 2555 days from today. What difference would I have made to this world by then? What would the people whose lives I helped say at my funeral? Does it matter what they say? Or does it matter that I’ve lived my life by own measure?
Clay Christenson asked a simple question: “How will you measure your life?” I don’t know the answer yet.