The other day, I came upon a thought-provoking piece attributed to ex-NFL lineman Joe Ehrmann. It goes like this; there are Three Things the Elderly Regret not Having Done,

Those three regrets are:
1: Not leaving a legacy
2: Not taking time for reflection
3: Not taking more risks

Can you do me a favour?
Can you sit back and think about those three things?
Go ahead,
Think about them long and hard.
Think about how those three things relate to what you’re trying to accomplish—today—in your everyday life.
As you rush—feverishly—through your days,
Just trying to get things done,
How mindful are you of those three things?

Well, let’s see.
Do any of us think of legacies?
How could we?
We’re busy.
Working at our jobs, making ends meet.
We have bosses and obligations,
Colleagues and commitments,
Legacies?
Who has time?

What about risks?
How many of us take risks?
Other than, maybe, throwing caution to the wind during a weekend rafting expedition,
Or a bungee jumping excursion,
Most of don’t venture too far out on that limb.
For many of us, taking risks with our careers, with our livelihood—with the stuff we’d really love to do,
Is all—you know—too risky.

What was the last thing?
Ah yes, reflection.
Do we stop and reflect?
Actually, many of us do.
And what do we reflect on?
On our future.
On what we’re going to do, once we’re done with whatever it is—our jobs, our businesses, our careers—we’re doing now.
We reflect on what we’re going to accomplish,
On how great our lives will be,
At some hazy, uncertain point in the future.
And until that hazy, hopeful future arrives,
We continue to live our lives—with not much more than a glint of reflection.

And that’s what I find curious about the Three Things the Elderly Regret not Having Done
Do you see?
In our 30s, our 40s, and even into our 50s and 60s…
We sometimes think about all the wonderful, meaningful, fun things we’re going to do—some day.
Then…
We wake up and and realize…
We’ve arrived at that hazy, uncertain point of our lives,
Where there are more yesterdays than tomorrows,
And, suddenly, we’re the ones thinking of Three Things we Regret not Having Done.

My message is simple.
Don’t wait to find your purpose.
Don’t wait to pursue your passion, or to do what’s meaningful.
Go ahead,
Reflect on what’s important.
Go ahead,
Take a few risks.
Go ahead,
Leave a legacy.
Go ahead,
Live your life, every day. Turn your work into play. And never, ever stop pursuing your passion.
Go ahead.
Do it now.

And,
If you keep visiting my blog, I’ll show you how.

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.

With no lengthy preamble, no rambling introduction, here are a few suggestions.

The Net Present Value of Life means…

• Today—this moment—is the most valuable thing you possess;

• The future—tomorrow—is tenuous and uncertain;

• The value of life, today, is therefore greater than the uncertain value of life in the future;

• In each of us, there’s a tendency to say, “One day, I will…” and, by saying so, to postpone the achievement of a rewarding life;

• The notion that you must work for decades at potentially uninspiring jobs, and then, at some hazy, uncertain date, achieve happiness by retiring is one that is as outdated as it is unbelievable;

• There are, simply, too many myths about retirement;

• The courage to walk away from an empty, unfulfilling career is more rewarding than it is rare;

• There is no better career choice than the pursuit and attainment of passion and  purpose;

• To live a life not dictated by society, by the experts, by the boss, the neighbours or, even, by public opinion is less difficult than imagined;

• There is satisfaction derived from remembering that you’re in charge of your life, that you’re the one firmly planted in the driver’s seat;

• The only meaningful drumbeat to march to is the one that you create;

• Caring and careful counsel provided by loved ones should never be confused with the warnings and reprimands of doubting naysayers;

• The one scarce, valuable (and non-renewable) resource is time;

• There are but a few ingredients to a happy life. They include; health, relationships, love, purpose, passion, inspiration, determination, belief, honesty, laughter, potential, and possibility;

• Money is just another of life’s ingredients, and it’s one that will never buy any of the ingredients listed above;

• There is as much illusion to money as there is value;

• Material possessions will never result in true happiness; defining your own version of success will;

• And finally, The Net Present Value of Life means: Living fully every day, turning work into play, and never, ever stopping to pursue your passion.

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.

I told you you didn’t want customers
I encouraged you to listen to your heart and to pursue passion.
And I wrote about business and social responsibility.

Now I’ll let someone else do the talking.

Recently, Entrepreneur.com interviewed Yvon Chouinard a reluctant business owner who describes himself as a juvenile delinquent.
Yvon Chouinard never subscribed to textbook business practices,
He’s done things his own way,
He’s cut against the grain,
He’s been laughed at.
He’s been lectured.
And he’s been warned,
That his business decisions were self-destructive.

Yvon Chouinard ignored his detractors.
And he now sits at the helm of a successful business,
A business with sales of 340 million dollars,
A business  you might have head of,
A business called Patagonia

I’ve been a Patagonia fan since the 1980′s
And I’ve admired Yvon Chouinard ever since reading his book, Let my People go Surfing
His persona and determination have inspired me to keep going—to keep telling everyone,
That there’s a better way to run a business,
A better way to manage a team, to view our careers.
And a better way to live our lives.
A way that I call The Net Present Value of Life

Listen, read the interview,
Read what Yvon Chouinard has to say about customers, and employees, and social responsibility.
Then ask yourself,
If he runs his business this way,
Why don’t I?

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.

After events of this weekend past,
I’m thinking Red Bull’s likability may have slipped—at least a bit.
And, I’m guessing Red Bull’s marketing department is breathing into a paper bag,
Just to stop the hyperventilation.
Let me tell you about it.

Red Bull is heavily into motorsports—so heavy that the company owns its own Formula 1 team.
Now picture yourself the head of Red Bull marketing and PR.
Your Red Bull team, this season, has the fastest cars,
Your Red Bull team has two talented—and marketable—drivers.
Your Red Bull team has, this year, better than an even chance of winning the championship.
And this weekend, your Red Bull team is racing at the prestigious British Grand Prix.

Now understand this,
Formula 1 is competitive—expensively so.
To stay ahead of the competition—Red Bull, for the British Grand Prix, fit a new part to each of its two cars.
Parts that make their fast cars even faster.
During a practice session, one of those new parts falls off the car—the one driven by a fellow named Vettel.
And there is no spare.
Except, that is, for the one affixed to the other car—the one driven by a fellow named Webber.

Before the race, management removes the part from Webber’s car and affixes it to Vettel’s machine.
In a sport where team evenhandedness and driver equality is a given, management’s maneuver is deemed a major faux pas.
Cries of favouritism, demands for explanation, and accusations of back-room politics arise from the sporting press, the rabid fan-base and the F1 community.
Webber is livid. Vettel attempts a low profile.
And Red Bull—the team with the best car, the coolest profile, and the championship in sight—is left spluttering weak-kneed explanations, and self-suffering denials.
How could it go so wrong?

Ah, but wait.
It gets worse.
During the race, Webber (the one who had the part confiscated) channels his fury and his focus to snatch—with a bold, brave move—the lead from Vettel.
Vettel (the recipient of the go-fast part) tries to defend and instead damages a tire.
He limps to the pits, and drops to last place.
Ultimately, Webber wins the race, and Vettel nets a seventh place finish.
Cries of poetic justice, instant karma, or just good old Aussie straight-dealing (Webber’s an Australian) emanate from the sporting press, the rabid fan-base, and the F1 community.
Leaving Red Bull—the team, and the drinks company—with a somewhat tarnished reputation.
How could it go so wrong?

But wait a minute,
Because, believe it or not,
It gets worse.
That spare part, the one that Red Bull management removed from Webber’s car.
Do you know what it was?
In a scene so tragic if it wasn’t so hilarious, so Kafkaesque if it wasn’t so true;
That spare part was, in fact…
…A wing—a wing that hangs so visibly from the front of an F1 car.

And now, thanks to a major management blunder,
Across the internet, addenda have been added to the now-infamous tagline.

Red Bull Gives you Wings…
…But only if your name is Vettel
…But then takes them away again
…Even if they’re not quite the same
…But only after it takes them from someone else

All of which makes me wonder if those Red Bull marketing and PR types are crying in their beer (or their Red Bull) tonight.

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.

Why the rush? Why treat life like a race—like a series of ever-alluring finish lines?
What’s wrong with now?

Nowhere is this ceaseless eagerness for the finish line more prevalent than in our careers.
We’re eager for promotion; anxious for vacation.
We anticipate a raise; almost demand a break.
And  the most wistful wish for the finish line is shown by those anticipating retirement.

People, I have a suggestion;
Work so it feels like play
Play at something every day
Enjoy each day you’re alive
And live like there’s no finish line.

Because, the only  true finish line that looms
Is the one that none is eager for.

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.