My friend Ryan Fletcher recently wrote something that spoke to me (I’ve paired this down from the original).

“At first, I hated the pressure and burden of feeling called to become something great. It’s a torture chamber. You know your potential. Yet, you have no idea how to get there. This leads to despair and misery, and always feeling like you’re letting yourself down. 

It’s not always fun to be the 5% that feels called to become great. But if I accept it, I will build a life of vast meaning. Quitting isn’t an option. I am a slave to my purpose. My job to achieve that purpose is mission-critical. If I quit, my Lesser Self wins. And millions of the brightest lights may never get lit.”

Many of us are driven. But few are driven to be great. 

I don’t know why I feel driven to be great. But I do. 

It drives me to wake up early to stare at a blank page, and then write letters like this one.

I could be doing a million other things that could result in making more money today, but here I am reading, writing, and trying to learn ways to improve myself and help others do the same.

Sometimes I think, “Why Me?” 

Why can’t I just be satisfied with sleeping in today? 

Ryan described it well when he said, it’s a torture chamber when you know your potential but have no idea how to get there and feeling like you’re letting yourself down.

Sleeping-in feels like I’m letting myself down, it feels like torture. 

In contrast, writing letters like this gives me a warm feeling inside like I’m on the right path. 

I’m not a religious person, yet I know my moral compass always points north. 

I’m not a spiritual person, but I do feel like I’m being guided.

I don’t know why I’m driven the way I am. But it’s there, speaking to me every day. 

It’s clear to me that finding a way to answer that nagging inner drive is how we find our true potential. It’s also clear to me that this isn’t a temporary mission, but rather a lifelong mission that takes daily endurance. 

I don’t know why I’m driven the way I am, but I know I’m not the only one.

#TheBusinessofUs #Driven
#TheSweetLife

Medals are nice. So shiny. Making the bestseller lists feels great. Suddenly your words have a legitimacy that wasn’t there before. Feels. So. Good. And yes, absolutely cause for celebration.

But the idea that these things lead you to a point of having “made it” or that happiness will follow as a result? False.

PERSPECTIVE SKEWED: When I began “writing,” I daydreamed about the awards and accolades. I THOUGHT a lot about writing, I talked about writing, I spent a small fortune on books ABOUT writing. It was a solid decade in the wanna-be stage while waiting tables and cleaning other people’s houses. I was trapped in the idea of “someday.”

GETTING MY MIND RIGHT: When I TRULY began writing, I put the daydreaming aside and instead focused on the page in front of me – getting the words down on paper. My priority became telling my story and connecting with the reader. Hyper focus on THAT is what eventually led to the awards and accolades.

And again, don’t get me wrong, they feel great.

But they can never be the focus. The goal must always be: connect with the reader.

Because the writing that truly connects with the reader will lead to the awards and accolades, which are the byproducts of a well-told story.

When the awards and accolades are the goal from the start, the writing loses its authenticity. We can’t afford to forgo authenticity, because when it comes to our readers, their bullshit meters are extremely sensitive.

If you ask someone to name a famous writer, there’s a good chance they might come up with Hemingway. Awards and accolades? Check. Success? Check. I know so many writers who are envious of Hemingway. After all, he won both a Pulitzer and a Nobel. Could it get any better? Apparently it could, because less than a decade after those wins, he killed himself. Is that how we want to measure success? Is that what happiness looks like?

Achieving a level of “success” in one area of life is great, but it won’t account for deficiencies in the others. Your business might be “killing it,” but what does that matter if poor health is literally killing you? You could be the most eloquent of wordsmiths, but that will do little to bring you happiness if your personal relationships are in shambles.

As Mike and I work through this journey we’re on, of challenge and introspection and daily improvement, we take time to celebrate the wins. We also remind ourselves that we can’t lose clarity on what really matters. Because, yes, medals are so pretty and shiny. But connecting with another human in a meaningful way is a far greater reward.