Picture this. You're sitting in an airport departure lounge. You've got an overpriced coffee in one hand, your phone in the other. You're scrolling. You glance up at the board. Your flight isn't there yet. So you go back to scrolling. Maybe you'll grab one of those sad pre-packaged sandwiches.
Hours go by. The board still hasn't called your flight.
Here's the truth I want to share with you today. For most of us, that's not just an airport scene. That's our whole life.
"We're all sitting in the great waiting room of life, eyes on the board, waiting for our flight to be called."
We're waiting to travel when we've got more money. Waiting to write the book when the kids leave home. Waiting to start the business when we feel ready. Waiting to take the holiday when work calms down. Waiting to go to the gym when we've lost the first ten kilos.
And the flight never gets called.
Because life isn't a flight. There is no boarding call. There is no perfect moment when the universe taps you on the shoulder and says, right Hilary, off you go now, time to start living.
The Most Dangerous Word
I want to tell you about the most dangerous word in the English language. It's not a swear word. It's not a slur. It's a perfectly innocent four letter word we say a hundred times a week without thinking.
Later.
I'll travel later. I'll start later. I'll write the book later. I'll learn golf later. I'll spend more time with the family later. Later is sneaky. Later slowly becomes next year. Next year becomes five years. Five years becomes ten. Then one day somebody asks what you've been up to lately, and you can't actually answer. Every week looked the same.
Be More Like Billy
Bob's grandson Billy is eight now, but when he was five we took him to the movies and he wore his full Sonic the Hedgehog costume topped off with an Avengers cap. For those playing at home, Sonic and the Avengers are completely unrelated franchises. Billy looked like he'd turned up to a wedding wearing one gumboot and one stiletto.
And Billy didn't care.
Billy strutted through that shopping centre like he'd just been signed for a million dollar endorsement deal. Nobody told him he was cool. Nobody validated him. Nobody had to give him permission. Billy was just busy being Billy.
And every time I watch him, I think the same thing. At what point did the rest of us stop living and start waiting?
The Cage of Comfort
Your brain is the world's laziest accountant. It loves routine because routine is efficient. Same coffee, same chair, same drive to work, same weekend, same conversations with the same people. Before long, comfort starts feeling normal.
Here's the catch. Comfort is wonderful until it becomes a cage.
"A boat is safest tied to the dock. But that is not what boats are made for. And neither are you."
Three Things You Can Do Today
1. Do something different. Anything. Take a different route home. Try a new cafe. Walk into a shop you've always walked past. Novelty wakes up the brain. The smallest deviation from routine is enough to remind you that you're alive.
2. Schedule memories. Most of us schedule work, appointments, school pickups. Very few of us schedule memories. Put the trip, the dinner, the road trip, the friend you haven't seen in three years, into the diary BEFORE you put the work in. Block it out. Make it real.
3. Ask yourself one question every morning. Not what will make today productive. Not what will make today efficient. Ask what could make today memorable. Nobody remembers their best spreadsheet. Nobody remembers an outstanding inbox clearing session. We remember the conversations, the laughs, the moments. So aim for those.
The Sticky Note
I've got a sticky note on my laptop right now. Bright green, black writing. It says "Life is happening Right Now." It's there because Karen Hart gave a speech on this at Toastmasters last week and it knocked me over again, even though I already believe it. I'll keep the sticky note there for a few weeks, then I'll take it down. Once a sign becomes normal we stop seeing it.
One Last Tuesday
Here's the closing thought I want to leave you with.
One day you'll have already had your last ordinary Tuesday. You just won't know which Tuesday it was. You'll have your last coffee with a friend. Your last drive with someone you love. Your last chance to do something you've always meant to do.
And that isn't depressing. It's actually the most beautiful reminder there is.
This isn't a warm up. This isn't a rehearsal. This isn't a practice round.
This is the flight. You're already on it. Look out the window.
Busy isn't a life. Busy is a calendar.
Go do the thing that reminds you you're alive.
Busy Isn't a Life, It's a Calendar
