My kid asked me a few months back if we’re rich. I told her yes. Because I’ve got her, and her siblings, and their mom, and work that pays me in ways almost no job pays. The number in the account had nothing to do with my answer. She looked at me like I’d dodged the question. Maybe I did. But I meant it, and I’ve wondered ever since why it was so hard to say with a straight face.
Here’s the honest part. I am a world-class measurer. Calories, steps, followers, revenue, body fat, the whole dashboard. Measuring is useful right up until the day you start measuring your worth, and then it turns on you. There’s always a bigger number. Always a guy with more. You catch the thing you were chasing and the finish line slides another 10 yards down the field. I’ve spent real years sprinting flat out at a line that moves on purpose.
The scoreboard makes a terrible god. Useful tool, sure. But it will take everything you’ve got and never once say enough. I know, because I’ve handed it everything for years, and every time I did it just raised the ask.
So this is the Friday debrief.
Whose scoreboard am I even playing on, and did I ever agree to it?
If I hit the next number, do I truly believe I’ll feel finished, or will the line just move again?
What in my life is already rich that I keep discounting because it has no number on it?
Who needs my attention more than my metrics do this weekend?
Put the scoreboard down for 48 hours. Go be rich in the way that never shows up on a dashboard.
So what would you do differently this weekend if you already had enough?
See you Monday. Peace.
One last thing: not every number is a scoreboard. This one is a mirror. If you want an honest look at where your attention actually goes, take our FREE Awareness Self Assessment and discover your focus score
Thank you. Exactly what I needed to hear right now. I can never thank you guys enough for all you do 🫡.