One Question That Can Crush You
It happened again today.
Out of nowhere, it happened.
The sickening grip of panic, the tightening throat, the pit in my stomach- all symptoms that bubble to the surface whenever that insidious voice speaks:
“What’s the point?”
Not “what’s the point” of the traffic I sit in every day. Not “what’s the point” of my job. No, the big one:
“What’s the point of being alive?”
It started so innocently. I was listening to a podcast on goal setting by Michael Hyatt. He was discussing his strategy around 2016, what he had in mind, and (of course) how I could do the same.
The voice inside piped up:
“Michael Hyatt is going to die.”
That wasn’t surprising. After all I am aware, intellectually, that Michael is going to die.
And again it spoke:
“With all his accomplishments and success and money, Michael Hyatt is going to die.”
I started to feel the hole in my heart opening up. I knew what was coming next. I’d heard it before:
“You’re going to die too.”
The hole opened the rest of the way, pieces of my heart sliding down my gut into my stomach.
Oh yes, the minor inconvenience of humanity.
The blip we all ignore or skirt around until it comes, cloaked in black, to suck away a soul and leave the rest of us a little bit more empty than before.
I’m going to die.
Knowing death can happen at any time — the information is usually passed through a television or a book or another person first. We all know death.
Feeling death is different. It usually comes in a dimly-lit parlor that smells of lilies, and not behind the wheel of a red Altima with a missing mirror at 8:16 on a Monday morning. Either way, feeling death has a way of ripping the meaning out of the other little tasks clamoring for our attention.
You don’t have to explain to anyone what feeling death is like. They already know.
I don’t know whether to call this phenomenon “depression” or simply “being a person,” but it sucks.
It sucks because it’s a reminder that you — yes you — are going to die.
There’s nothing you or me or any of those kids out in California can do about it.
So what’s the point?
At the end of the day, life is not about money. Money is a tool, nothing more or less.
It’s not about industry. Even the most well-built organizations fade away. This, too, is meaningless.
Every business fails. Every building falls. Every big dream falters.
Legacy is none of those things.
Legacy is people.
Yes, people. Those obnoxious pink things in front of you at Starbucks. They are your only hope at living beyond yourself.
It takes faith to accept that point because people, bless them, are fragile. The human race is broken. We are sad. We despise our fellow man.
And I’m the worst of them all. Even after this breakthrough, I will likely not call my mother, father, brother, or wife on the way home, but will be suckered into another podcast assuring me wealth is just around the corner if I only APPLY THESE THREE SIMPLE STEPS.
You cannot impact dollar bills. You cannot impact a building. No sports car cares whether you live or die. The universe, cold and heartless as she is, will continue to turn no matter the amount of oxygen in your lungs.
But you make a difference in people.
Right here. Right now. Today. You can make a difference. It matters. You matter. You matter to them.
You’re probably sitting beside one right now. Wave at him. Smile at her. It matters.
You matter. I matter. I don’t know if either of us will matter 500 or 50 or 5 years from now, but we matter today.
You can matter to people.
People are the point.
Thank you so much for reading. It means the world to me. Share this with someone who needs to hear it (and be sure to tag me so I can say hey :)
