Moving from Success to Significance

Alan Watts wisely said,
“No valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now.”

Too often, we postpone living. Many people spend their working years imagining that retirement will suddenly unlock joy, purpose, and fulfilment. In doing so, they risk undervaluing their present life—especially those busy years spent raising children or pursuing career goals. They place life on hold, hoping that meaning will magically emerge once the work chapter ends.

Bob Buford, in his thought-provoking book Halftime: Moving from Success to Significance, offers a more empowering perspective. He suggests that retirement satisfaction isn’t something you stumble into—it's something you build. His core idea? The first half of life is often about achievement and success. But eventually, those external milestones lose their motivational spark. Without deeper purpose, success can start to feel empty.

Peter Drucker added another key insight:
“Efficiency is doing things right. Effectiveness is doing the right things.”

It’s a simple but profound distinction. Being productive isn't enough—we also need to feel purposeful.

Taken together, these reflections point to a vital truth: meaning doesn’t begin at retirement—it begins now. Living with purpose in the present moment is what fuels a more satisfying life, both before and after we leave our formal careers behind.

Three core elements of the PERMA well-being model—Engagement, Meaning, and Achievement—are all amplified when we pursue purpose with intention. That purpose may not be tied to your job title, but it may well draw on your skills, passions, and lived experience in surprising ways.

So, why wait? Begin now. Live with a sense of purpose that uplifts you today and carries you into the future. When purpose becomes your compass, work and retirement no longer sit on opposite sides of life—they begin to merge into one rich, rewarding journey.

Confidence—Results or Effort?

Confidence is a highly valued aspect of well-being—the ability to feel assured in yourself without being overbearing. There are at least two common strategies for developing confidence: one focused on results and achievements, the other grounded in effort.

Consider a university student preparing for a final exam. The results-oriented learner believes that achieving a top grade is all that matters. They cram the material, obsess over knowing everything—down to the obscure topics—and aim to perform with speed, precision, and expertise. But because they can't control the exam itself, they often compensate by overworking, stressing out, and anxiously pacing outside the exam hall. Ironically, despite recognising the importance of confidence, their approach tends to erode it.

By contrast, the effort-oriented learner takes a different path. They begin by creating a study plan, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, and consistently applying themselves through useful, targeted learning. Their belief is simple: if they’ve put in their best, most honest effort, then they can have confidence that the results will reflect that. They focus on what they can control—their preparation—and trust the outcome, whatever it may be. Whether they succeed or fall short, they reflect, learn, and grow. Over time, this mindset strengthens their self-assurance, as they witness the relationship between effort and improvement.

Now imagine you're heading into a job interview, meeting a new client, preparing for a driving test, or starting a new relationship. In each case, confidence can significantly affect the outcome. You can either obsess over the result or invest fully in your effort. The latter is far more empowering—and much more within your control.

As Henry Ford said,

“Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right.”

Believing in your effort nurtures real confidence. By striving to be the best version of yourself through genuine effort, you build resilience, self-belief, and well-being. Focus too much on the result, and you risk losing all three.

Judging or Thinking

Carl Jung once said, “Thinking is difficult, that’s why most people judge.” Unfortunately, that feels painfully true.

Being judgmental is toxic to our well-being. Mindfulness begins with a commitment to being non-judgemental—towards ourselves and others—and present in the moment. Quick judgements often unhelpfully inflate or deflate our sense of self-worth. But how does that actually serve our peace of mind?

True judgement involves reasoning. It requires informed understanding and the ability to consider things from multiple perspectives. Few issues are ever truly black and white. There’s a world of difference between rushing to judge someone and forming a considered, thoughtful, and objective conclusion.

The Bible reminds us that only God can truly judge, as only He sees the motives of the heart. It urges us to examine ourselves before casting judgement on others. That humility is crucial.

When we must judge, it’s vital to do so with care and fairness. It demands effort and deep thinking—qualities that are easy to overlook in our fast-paced lives. But proper judgement isn’t lazy; it’s deliberate. It requires slowing down, thinking critically, and being aware of our own biases. Thinking is difficult. So is being objective—but both are essential.

Perhaps we should start by identifying the areas of life that truly matter to us. Become well-informed in those domains. Learn to apply just and balanced judgement where it's meaningful—and release the rest. Judge yourself first. Only then, if needed, turn that lens outward.

Letting go of our judgemental tendencies is both grounding and empowering—but it’s not easy. Begin by choosing to judge less often and observe the impact. Notice how it changes your mindset, your relationships, your inner peace.

It’s definitely a work in progress. But every step towards being less judgemental and more thoughtful is a step towards greater wisdom and well-being.

My First Wellness Experience

The first time something significant happens in our lives, it earns a special place in our memory archive. One of those moments for me was completing a series of counselling sessions as a typically confused university learner over fifty years ago.

As the final session ended, the counsellor said something that became one of the most profound messages I have ever heard. He said:

"Johan, you and I are essentially the same. Whatever you want, I likely want too. And whatever you don’t want, I probably don’t want either. Emotionally, we are essentially the same."

With that farewell, we parted ways. Initially, I rejected the comment. Racially, in terms of age, intellect, and almost every other aspect, we seemed highly dissimilar. But the words lingered. I pondered his comment over the years, and after about a decade, it became one of my foundational wellness principles.

With few exceptions, everyone has extremely similar emotional needs and aspirations. Outwardly, we may be very different, but inwardly, we are almost carbon copies of one another. How we express and pursue these emotional needs may vary, but we are largely coming from the same place, seeking similar outcomes.

Acknowledging and accepting our shared emotional core is empowering—especially when it comes to doing something constructive or nurturing joyful aspirations. You see something beautiful, or someone in need of a helping hand. You feel a moment of joy, a desire for understanding, or a wave of loneliness or enthusiasm—well, that stranger next to you, or even a friend, can often recognise and share that emotion. Most people will respond without judgement.

And yet, what do we do? We keep our emotions hidden, assuming others won’t understand. Too much of our wellness is privatised, silenced, hidden, or denied. What a shame!

Yes, each of us is unique and special. But that individuality shouldn’t stop us from celebrating and sharing our positive commonality and inner richness. Accepting that we are deeply similar—and hardwired to be cautious but also non-judgemental—suggests that risking kindness, openness, and emotional honesty is unlikely to backfire.

In all the years since, I can remember only a few instances when my openness was resented or had negative consequences. But the number of wonderful moments it created is too great to count.

Please, experiment with, celebrate, and share our positive commonality. It can brighten someone’s day—and yours too.

Third Best*

Some people are perfectionists, but I am definitely an imperfectionist. Getting something about 95% right, complete or fitted is good enough for me. I’m good at painting a wall or ceiling, but getting the trim perfect is well beyond my pay grade (not to mention the spills, which end up everywhere). Despite the imperfections and minor flaws, I get a strong sense of accomplishment and manage to complete a lot of projects and tasks.

Being okay with the fact that I have limitations—and that I am a finite, flawed, constrained, and average human being—gives me immense joy and peace. That doesn’t mean I don’t push myself to improve; rather, it empowers me to be more ambitious, to learn from my mistakes, and to let go of perfection or the pursuit of 99% excellence. Being more easily satisfied, yet keen to experiment and grow from my errors, builds confidence and encourages an urge to explore new opportunities or try something different. In most cases, good enough is actually very good—and often beyond the reach or criticism of many people. There will always be weaknesses or mistakes and opportunities for others to complain or improve, but there are even more chances for praise and thanks.

If perfection is about getting the best solution or being first, then imperfecting is about being third best. Imperfecting means deliberately practising being okay with imperfection and accepting your flaws. What I’ve observed is that “first” or “best” rarely occurs, “second best” is often late and takes too long to achieve, and “third best” is actually timely and quite excellent in most ways—with only me noticing the mistakes. At an Olympic award ceremony, it’s been noted that the bronze medallist is generally pleased with themselves and far more content than the silver medallist.

As wonderful as the notion of optimising is in economics and finance, living in a state of satisficing and imperfection is peaceful, confidence-building, and aspirational. The smaller-cup lifestyle is about continually trying to get a little better, making improvements, and savouring your third-best accomplishments.

Welcoming your finite, flawed, limited nature is empowering. And if you keep up your third-place successes, they eventually become better than the “best” finish you once aimed for.

*Inspired by "The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are" by Brené Brown

Self-Talk and Self-Love*

Have you ever listened carefully to your self-talking, that whispering voice inside your head that chats with you all too regularly? What does that voice say to you about yourself? Would you classify this conversation as a dear friend, an objective observer, or just mindless chatter? Further, would you openly engage in a similar style of conversation with a friend, colleague, or foe?

Perhaps your inner voice is different from mine, but my self-talk was not the most friendly, helpful, or objective dialogue I had with myself. And my how this chatter was so harshly judgemental. Over time, I have managed to tame this rhetoric by consciously ignoring, reframing, or challenging this running commentary. It started with acknowledging that this internal voice was unkind to my best friend—ME!!  I would NEVER be so harsh or judgemental to anyone else, from a best friend to most adversaries, so why was I so unkind and difficult to myself?

Then I considered the Golden Rule, which correctly states:
“Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Or don’t do to others what you would have them not do unto you.”

The Reverse Golden Rule conjures up the complementary position, being:
“Don’t do to yourself what you would not do to others. Or do to yourself what you would do to others.”

Essentially, be kind and selfish to yourself—exercise some self-love. Self-talk usually blatantly violates the Reverse Golden Rule; you treat yourself worse than my less favourite person.  (Note, I avoid the word EMENY as that term is poisonous to yourself and should be removed from your vocabulary and consciousness, but is another matter.) It takes you to a place of extreme self-judgement and impossible expectations. Rarely is this internal dialogue objective; rather, it is cruelly, subjectively biased against yourself and who you are.

I am not suggesting that self-reflection is unhelpful or unconstructive, but rather that you should deliberately debate with your inner voice, challenge its conclusions and inferences about yourself. That internal critic usually has a point that is worth entertaining, but it should not overwhelm your essential character—which is likely that you are a noble and worthy person. Please befriend your self-talking persona and make it your partner, confidant, and ally.

*          Inspired by thoughts stirred up by Balance, a meditation app and Meditations for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman

There Is Always Something

Imagine that you’d solved all your problems—your health is great, your relationships are solid, work’s going fine, money’s no issue. Everything’s sorted. Would you be content and carefree? At peace? Or would your mind just quietly come up with a fresh list of things to worry about?

Gilda Radner once said,

“It’s always something.”

Most of us will probably never get to a point where every single “something” is wrapped up and finished with. Life doesn’t really work that way—it’s an ongoing work in progress. We’re finite human with only so much time, energy, and skill. So maybe we’re not even meant for some perfect, problem-free version of life. And even if it was possible… would it actually feel that great?

Thinking too much about some future where everything’s sorted often just takes us out of the present moment. It sets us up to be disappointed. And, honestly, it might even be boring. That constant pressure to make today better than yesterday can end up making us feel worse. The closer we get to “perfect,” the more impossible it seems.

And then, if we ever did get there—whatever “there” is—what would be left? No problems, no friction. But also, no drive, no learning, no surprise. Where would stuff like purpose, excitement, or even joy come from? Plus, let’s be real—software can already do a lot of the jobs and tasks we used to spend our time on. If nothing ever needed fixing or figuring out, what would actually make us feel useful?  Isn’t problem solving one of the joys of life  whether as part of your job or a hobby.

I’m not saying your current problems don’t matter. They do. But maybe the idea that we should be aiming for a life without any problems at all—that’s the bit that needs questioning. There’s a saying: Beyond the mountains, more mountains. Life keeps going. And weirdly, that might be the good bit. The climbing, not the arriving.

Inspired by “Meditations for Mortals” by Oliver Burkeman

Resilience and Spirituality

Before you jump to any conclusion, let me define spirituality. I’m using Brené Brown’s definition:

Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose to our lives.

What Brené and others have noticed is that spiritual people tend to be more resilient. Also, more whole-hearted. They seem more at peace—with themselves and with the world. Spirituality blends four positive emotions—hope, love, serenity, and awe—into a mindset, or maybe a way of being. Not surprisingly, one feels calmer, more connected. Add some gratitude to that and you get a kind of wellness kaleidoscope.

Still, for many people, there’s a bit of fear or suspicion around spirituality. Like, if you go there, you might turn into some kind of Jesus freak or end up shouting Bible verses on the street corner. That’s not what I—or Brené—mean. It’s kind of the opposite, actually.

It starts more with awe. With looking up at the stars and thinking, “Wow, I’m tiny and insignificant.” It’s that mix of wonder, smallness, letting go of control—and allowing love and connection to step in. There’s a certain naivety, a gentleness, and a release in that.

Resilience means bouncing back when life feels too much. It means not getting stuck in the present mess but reaching toward a better future. Spirituality supports this—it brings hope. You believe there’s something bigger at work. And in that belief, there’s space for peace. For kindness. For not judging others—or yourself.

Religion works for me, but spirituality doesn’t have to be religious. What I do recommend is: befriend your spiritual centre. Grow into it. Through it. You might just find your shalom there.

"The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are" by Brené Brown

Happenstance

Happenstance is often described as a twist of fate or circumstances that seem random but turn out for the best. But is it really all by chance? I’ve found that many of the best moments in my life came from being open to these "lucky" encounters—moments I gave space to, and even actively sought out.

One of my favourite travel principles is: “When in doubt, turn left.” The follow-up to that is: “Get lost.” It’s not about losing direction—more about losing the expectation of a straight path. If I’m wandering down a quiet street and spot a side road to my left, that’s the one I take. More times than not, it’s led me to something wonderful: an unexpected view, a quirky shop, or an interesting conversation. Many of my best memories have come when I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going.

And when I’m in a crowd or just passing through a busy space, I often greet someone nearby with, “Hello, my friend…” Just like that. I can’t count how many times someone has been willing to chat or offer help. Most of the time, people respond with kindness, openness, and genuine interest. It’s funny how a simple, friendly approach can turn a mundane moment into something memorable.

I’ve also come to realise that success, in a sense, happens when preparation meets opportunity. But here’s the thing: we can create our own opportunities by putting ourselves out there. You don’t just wait for things to happen—you make them happen. It’s about being deliberate with your choices and opening yourself to what could come next.

To make this work, start by ensuring you feel SAFE—whatever safety means for you. Understand that stepping outside your comfort zone is part of the process. Embrace it. Let go of the need to control everything. Be respectful of others, and when in doubt, count back from five and then just go for it.

Allowing yourself to embrace vulnerability opens the door to powerful emotions—curiosity, wonder, and joy. Stepping out of your comfort zone doesn’t just stretch it, it can make it bigger. And in the end, you might just find a little bit of magic along the way.

Neuroplasticity

I used to think that change wasn’t possible—that what you saw was what you got. I felt like I was already set, finished. But fortunately, that’s not the case. We can change, sometimes in pretty big ways. This ability to “rewire” our brains is called neuroplasticity. It turns out, our minds are much more like plastic than we think—they can be reshaped. What a hopeful thought! It means we really can become better versions of ourselves, and our well-being can improve. Research shows that about 40% of our well-being comes from our intentions and actions. That’s a lot of potential for positive change!

But here’s the kicker: change doesn’t happen on its own. It requires awareness and intentional effort. If you’re trying to build a new habit, it takes an average of 66 days of consistent practice before it becomes second nature. So, start small—take manageable steps and be patient with yourself.

Let’s say you want to become more thoughtful. To get there, create daily opportunities where you can practice. Look for moments when you can act thoughtfully—whether that’s listening more deeply or doing something kind. Frame your day with a “thoughtful” lens, noticing how others express thoughtfulness too. Bring it into your conversations. Share your goal with those close to you and ask them to acknowledge when you’ve done something thoughtful. Keep track of your progress by journaling your small wins—celebrating even the smallest moments of success. It’s a great way to boost your positive emotions and keep yourself motivated.

Of course, there will be days when it feels like nothing’s changing. That’s normal. Change takes time. Over those 66 days and beyond, your brain will begin to reprogram itself. Little by little, what once felt awkward will start to feel more natural.

Neuroplasticity is proof that we can change for the better. It might be gradual, sometimes clumsy, but the rewards are worth it. So, go for it. Embrace the process of growth. You’ve got this!

Emotions, Solutions (or Just Listen)

Sometimes I ask someone how they’re doing, and they really open up—the emotional kind of open. Highs, lows, worries, old wounds. And without thinking, I start offering advice. “Here’s what you should do…” or “Maybe try this…” It’s meant to be helpful, but it often lands flat. The person goes quiet, or their energy dips. I’ve learned the hard way—they weren’t asking for solutions. They just wanted to be heard.

You’ve probably seen this play out too.

Some people need to talk things through—not to be fixed, but to be felt with. Just speaking the words out loud helps them clear space inside. They’re not looking for advice, just someone to sit with them while they release the pressure.

Others only open up when they’re hoping for guidance. They’re already running through options in their head and want help sorting it out. When they speak, they’re inviting input.

Neither is right or wrong. It’s just how people are wired. But it gets tricky when the person listening assumes the wrong thing. That’s where the trouble starts.

So how do we find our footing?

First, by really listening. Not just waiting for our turn to speak—but actually tuning in. Are they using words that reflect emotion? Or are they focused on the practical side of things? Pay attention to their pace, their tone, their cues. And before jumping in, ask a simple question: “Would you like some thoughts, or should I just listen?” That one line can change everything.

And if you’re the advice-giving type (I know I am), the hardest part might be biting your tongue. But trust me—most of the time, what people need isn’t a solution. It’s a safe space. A little quiet. A nod of understanding.

Because talking helps. Being heard heals. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

So here’s the heart of it:

LISTEN CAREFULLY, SAY LITTLE, LET GO OF JUDGEMENT AND ASK IF ADVICE IS USEFUL BEFORE GIVING IT.

Multi-Tasking and Listening

Can we really do two MEANINGFUL things at the same time? Not just walking and chewing gum—that’s easy. But something like having a real conversation with a friend while planning tomorrow’s big to-do list in your head. Or trying to solve two proper problems at once. It sounds impressive in theory, but in practice? Not so much. Usually, both things end up done halfway, and you’re left feeling scattered.

For a while, multi-tasking had a bit of a golden glow about it. People wore it like a badge of honour. The more tasks you could juggle, the more capable and productive you seemed. But lately, that thinking is starting to shift. More and more, we’re beginning to realise that doing lots at once often means doing nothing particularly well.

Turns out, the brain doesn’t actually multitask the way we thought it did. It flicks back and forth between things, which leaves us with split attention and not much depth. That kind of scattered focus isn’t just inefficient—it’s exhausting. You’re not really present with any of it.

And nowhere is this more noticeable than in our conversations. Listening—truly listening—is one of the most generous things we can offer someone. But how often are we fully tuned in? Not glancing at our phone, or thinking about what we’ll say next, or ticking off a mental list while nodding politely. Just properly being there.

It's hard work, being that present. And it matters. Often, how closely we listen reflects how much we value the person we’re talking to. Next time you’re in a chat, try checking in: Am I here? Or am I just filling the silence until it’s my turn to speak? Am I trying to be interesting, or trying to understand?

These questions can be a bit uncomfortable, sure. But they’re worth asking. I know I’ve got plenty of room to grow. Some days I do better than others. But I’m trying.

Because one thing I’m learning—slowly—is that doing one thing with care and presence beats doing five things halfway. Especially when it comes to the people who matter.

One conversation at a time. That’s more than enough.

*: Travis Bradberry, Ph.D. Multitasking Damages Your Brain and Your Career, 2014 TalentSmart® www.talentsmart.com.

Is Fright Undermining Your Well-Being?

Fright has a sneaky way of getting into our heads. One moment we’re just a little unsure, and the next, our minds are running loops of worst-case scenarios. It happens to all of us. Something feels a bit off, and suddenly we’re imagining disasters. But take a step back—are things really that bad, or did we just get spooked?

Fright is that jolt, that moment of being startled. It feels urgent, but that doesn’t always mean it’s dangerous. Our ancestors needed that sort of vigilance. Life back then really was risky—a deep cut or broken bone could be a death sentence. The average person didn’t live past thirty. These days, in many parts of the world, we’re living past eighty. But our nervous systems haven’t quite caught up.

Instead, we still respond to the world as if it’s full of lurking tigers. Except now, the “tigers” are headlines, news alerts, and warnings about everything from our cholesterol to the state of the world. There’s always something, isn’t there? But remember, the media trades in fear because calm doesn’t sell. Good news? Too dull to make the front page.

The thing is, most of what frightens us is imagined—not rooted in real, present danger. Fright is emotional, while actual danger is something tangible. In truth, thanks to advances in medicine, safety standards, and technology, the world is safer than it’s ever been. Statistically, if you were only at risk from unnatural or accidental causes—not ageing—you could expect to live about 2,800 years. That’s how rare real threats are.

Of course, life still has its troubles. But letting fear run unchecked does more harm than good. It steals our sleep, clouds our thinking, and makes the world feel smaller than it is.

So, when anxiety creeps in, try to pause and ask, “Is this really a danger—or just a fright?” That little question can make all the difference. And if you’re looking for a good reality check, Hans Rosling’s Factfulness* is worth a read. It’s full of surprising truths about how much the world has improved—calm, factual, and strangely comforting.

Sometimes, the best antidote to fear is a bit of perspective.

*: Factfulness: Ten Reasons We're Wrong About the World - And Why Things Are Better Than You Think by Hans Rosling, Ola Rosling, Anna Rosling Rönnlund

What Good Things Are Happening to You?

How you begin a conversation—whether with a friend or a stranger—can set the tone for everything that follows. A polite “hello” does the trick, sure. It’s safe and expected. But there’s room to do better—something warmer, more thoughtful. Once you’ve exchanged names or familiar greetings, why not steer the chat in a more uplifting direction?

One of my favourite ways to start a conversation with a friend is to ask, “What good things have happened to you recently?” It’s a simple question, but it opens a different kind of door. People often pause, not because there’s nothing good to say, but because they’re not used to being asked. If they hesitate, I gently encourage them, hoping to land on something that sparks a bit of joy. Instead of small talk about the weather, we might end up chatting about a new hobby, a lovely weekend, or something that made them laugh.

Another gentle question that works well is, “What’s gone well today?” There’s almost always something. People appreciate the chance to share a win—big or small—and those conversations often leave both of us feeling a little lighter.

When it comes to strangers, like someone helping me at a shop or driving a taxi, I sometimes open with, “Hello, my friend.” I learned that years ago from a colleague, and I’ve seen how it softens the interaction. There’s a friendliness to it, a kind of respect. For folks working in customer service—who often aren’t treated especially well—it goes a long way. You get a warmer response, and the exchange becomes more human, more kind.

Trying to start conversations on a positive note isn’t just about being polite—it’s a quiet act of connection. It helps others frame their day through a more grateful lens. And it helps me too. Those little moments of joy, shared between people, are often the ones that stay with you.

It doesn’t take much—just a thoughtful question, a warm greeting. But it can turn an ordinary moment into something that feels good on both sides. And that, I think, is time well spent.

Success, Habits, Failures and Learning

After years of watching learners, one thing stands out: people handle mistakes in very different ways. Some—more so in recent times—tend to hang back, only doing what’s asked, careful not to step out of line. They play it safe, sticking to the edges, afraid to get it wrong. Others dive in, give it a go, and get things mostly right—about seventy percent of the time.

And here’s the interesting bit: it’s those who try, even when thirty percent of what they do doesn’t quite land, who usually come out ahead when it really counts—grasping the first principles and the logic behind the task, not just the surface.

When we get something right, we feel good—confident, capable. We remember the answer and repeat it next time, often without thinking much about it. That’s how habits form. It’s useful, especially in the short term. But getting it right doesn’t always mean we understand it. Sometimes, it just means we’ve learned to repeat a pattern.

Mistakes, on the other hand, ask more of us. They interrupt us. They invite us to pause, get curious. What went wrong? Why didn’t it work? That’s where real learning begins—not just doing but understanding. As the saying goes: success breeds habit, failure breeds learning.

Personally, I enjoy tinkering with new ideas just to see where they lead. Most of the time, things go partly right—but not quite as expected. Still, those moments are full of insight. I ask myself, “What did I learn? What was the tweak that caused the unexpected result? What if I tried it again, slightly differently—what would happen then?”

That’s where the growth lives—in letting go of the need to be perfect. Failing fast and often can lead to stronger skills and better outcomes, if we stop chasing the right answer and start tuning into the process instead.

Of course, getting something right is worth a quiet celebration. But getting it wrong—if you’re really paying attention—can be even better. The real loss isn’t failure. It’s hesitation. Sitting on the sidelines means missing out on both habit and learning. In the end, all you build is the habit of holding back. And that’s the one habit that’s hardest to unlearn.

Thoughts vs. Thinking*

They say we have between 50,000 and 60,000 thoughts a day. That’s around 40 to 55 a minute—almost one every second. It’s a steady hum in the background: memories, little flashes of insight, half-formed ideas, bits of inner chatter, and all sorts of passing observations. Many of these thoughts are on repeat—rooted in habit, routine, and the quiet worries we carry.

That’s a lot of thoughting. But here’s the thing—not all of that is the same as thinking.

Let’s slow things down with a familiar moment. Picture yourself coming up to a traffic light.

You notice the light is green. That’s a thought. You glance at the road—it’s busy. Another thought. You count a couple of cars ahead. Thought again. No one’s crossing—still a thought. Then your mind starts to work a little harder. You wonder how long it’ll take to get through the lights—maybe four seconds. Now you’re thinking.

Will the light change soon? Not sure—that’s thinking too. If it turns red, will you be late? Probably. By how much? Two minutes. Will that matter? Maybe. And just like that, you’re in full-blown thinking mode—complete with the emotional baggage, worry, and a touch of what I like to call “awfulizing.”

In moments like these, thoughts are like little birds fluttering past—quick, simple, and not asking much from you. They’re just there: clinical, objective, and free from judgement. They require very little energy.

Thinking, on the other hand, is when you start weaving a story out of those birds—wondering where they’re flying, if they’ll land, and what it might all mean. Judgements, feelings, worries… they sneak in quietly and suddenly you’re no longer just observing—you’re interpreting, reacting, worrying, analysing and catastrophising.

Thoughts are the raw material of the mind—gentle nudges, non-judgemental  observations, a whisper of insight. They arrive uninvited. You don’t have to work for them, and you don’t get to choose which ones come.

Thinking is what happens when we start engaging with those thoughts. It’s the energy we give them—the weight, the narrative, the emotion. And while thinking can be useful, it’s also draining. It draws on our focus, our attention, our emotional reserves. And let’s be honest—it doesn’t always take us somewhere kind or calm.

Here’s a simple way to tell them apart: a thought is something you have—it’s a noun. Thinking is something you do—it’s a verb.

You can’t stop thoughts from showing up, but you can choose how you meet them. You can notice when you’re sliding into overthinking and gently step back. You can guide your thinking towards something kinder. You can even let a thought drift by without turning it into a whole story.

And that, in its own quiet way, is a kind of freedom.

This is where the ten positive emotions come in—gratitude, hopefulness, joy, love, pride, serenity, amusement, awe, inspiration, and interest. If you can gently reframe your “verb-type” thinking through one of these lenses, you might just find yourself shifting the whole experience. You can’t always control your thoughts—but you can let your thinking work for you.

 *:  Inspired by Don't Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen

How You Do the Small Stuff Matters*

It’s insightful to observe how you handle the small things in life. Consider some of your everyday activities — going to an appointment, cycling through town, or meeting a friend for coffee. In those moments, do you show up on time and keep your word? Are you courteous and patient, bringing joy and presence into your interactions? Do you finish what you start and take quiet pride in your efforts? Are you thoughtful, empathetic, and attentive to the details? Or do you find yourself falling into habits like impatience, rushing, or casual gossip?

What’s fascinating is how the way you do these small, seemingly insignificant things often reflects how you approach the bigger, more meaningful parts of life. Your behaviour in everyday situations tends to spill over into more important moments. If your conduct during routine events isn’t quite in line with how you’d like to be seen or remembered, it’s worth paying attention. Reputation isn’t just shaped by grand gestures or deliberate actions — it’s often built on the quiet consistency of how you carry yourself when no one’s watching.

Wherever you go, your natural self-shows up. Whether you're in a high-stakes situation or just having a quick conversation, your patterns reveal themselves. It’s not that you're different in big versus small situations — you're just more visible in one than the other.

A more approachable path to self-improvement is to begin with the small stuff. These are often automatic behaviours we don’t think twice about — but they still have consequences. Maybe it's your tendency to run late, to get irritated in traffic, to speak without really listening, or to say you'll do something and then not follow through. Choose just one of these reflexes and gently work on it. Don’t aim for perfection — just aim for progress. Reduce how often it happens. Maybe, over time, stop it entirely. And when you notice yourself improving, give yourself quiet credit. That kind of self-awareness and follow-through builds confidence and trust — both in yourself and from others.

It’s also important to recognise what you’re already doing well. There are likely plenty of moments when you are reliable, kind, present, or honest — and those count. Let yourself feel a quiet sense of pride. That’s not arrogance — that’s healthy self-regard. Pride, after all, is one of the ten core positive emotions, and we can cultivate it by acknowledging our small, everyday wins.

So, here’s a powerful reflection: who do you aspire to be — and what small actions would that version of you take? How would they handle the ordinary moments? What habits would they leave behind, and which ones would they strengthen? Begin there. Begin small. Because, in truth, it’s the small things that shape everything.

How you do anything is how you do everything.*

*: How To Live An Extraordinary Life by Anthony Pompliano

What Is Wealth?*

Wealth is often perceived solely in terms of financial assets, but this perspective is both simplistic and limiting. Let's explore a broader, more nuanced understanding of wealth.

Consider 94 year old Warren Buffett, whose net worth is approximately $130 billion (2024). Now, think about the concept of time as a form of wealth. A person in their twenties has an expected remaining life of around two billion seconds; someone in their fifties has about one billion seconds; and at my age, I have roughly three hundred million seconds left. Each are billionaire (except me). Who is wealthier in this context? Would Warren Buffett trade his billions for the time that younger individuals possess? This thought experiment illustrates that financial wealth is just one dimension of a multifaceted concept.

In reality, wealth encompasses various forms, including:

1. Financial Wealth: The monetary assets and resources one control.

2. Time Wealth: The availability of time to pursue meaningful activities and personal interests.

3. Social Wealth: The depth and quality of relationships and social connections.

4. Mental Wealth: One's psychological well-being and intellectual growth.

5. Physical Wealth: The state of one's health and physical fitness.*

6. Spiritual Wealth: A sense of purpose and alignment with one's core (soul) values. I added this one.

Each of these "accounts" contributes to our overall sense of prosperity and fulfilment. Focusing exclusively on financial wealth can lead to imbalances, potentially neglecting health, relationships, or personal growth. Conversely, nurturing these other forms of wealth can enrich our lives in ways that money alone cannot, but we will likely end up poorer but much the happier.

Achieving true wellness requires a holistic approach, recognizing and cultivating all dimensions of wealth. By maintaining balance across these areas, we can lead more fulfilling lives and avoid the pitfalls of overemphasizing any single aspect.

In summary, wealth is a multifaceted construct that extends beyond mere financial assets. By broadening our definition to include time, social connections, mental and physical health, and spiritual fulfilment, we can pursue a more balanced, joyful, prosperous and enriched life.  We can all be billionaires if we play our cards wisely and mindfully.

*: The 5 Types of Wealth by Sahil Bloom

Resilience: Adapting to Fortunate (and Unfortunate) Events

Over the years, so many wonderful things have happened to me. My personal and professional life has been immensely blessed, and I am forever grateful. Recently, however, I have also experienced the passing away of those very dear to me. I was profoundly sad. What do both of these circumstances have in common? Resilience.

Resilience is the ability to bounce back from setbacks and misfortunes. After the funeral, I moved forward and adjusted to the new reality. I recovered from the initial shock more quickly than I expected; before long, I felt like myself again—just a little changed. That’s resilience in action.

Life has a way of balancing both joy and sorrow. Adapting to fortunate events helps us grow, while adapting to hardships helps us heal. We cannot expect resilience to be our remedy in tough times without recognizing that it also applies when life treats us well. The hedonic treadmill works both ways, returning us to our natural state of well-being, whether we are coming down from a high or pulling ourselves up from a low.

Nurturing resilience is an ongoing practice. When good fortune comes our way, it’s important to embrace it fully harvesting its bounty while also cultivating gratitude. By internalizing, savouring, and treasuring these moments, we are, in essence, strengthening our ability to bounce back from future challenges. Learning to adapt when things go well builds the habits we rely on when things fall apart.

One of the wonders of the human spirit is our ability to overcome obstacles. But just as we adjust to adversity, we also quickly acclimate to privilege. The real challenge is twofold: to recover properly from hardship and to grow when life is good—without taking our blessings for granted. Savouring is a conscious tool for reframing our experiences, deepening our resilience, and truly appreciating the journey.

Is Success Mountain Climbing or a Journey?

Early in my career I thought of success like climbing a mountain. The peak stands tall, representing the big achievement, but is that really the whole point of the climb? Or is there something more to it? Over time, I’ve come to realise that the real treasure isn’t just reaching the top (as there is no ultimate summit) —it’s in the happiness and well-being we experience along the way.

So, let’s explore this idea together:

1. Does happiness come before success, or does it follow after?

2. If success is meant to bring happiness, does that feeling truly last once we reach our goal?

3. Can happiness itself make success more likely—and the journey a little easier?

For a long time, many of us have been taught that success leads to happiness. And yes, achieving some (financial) goal can bring a rush of joy—but it rarely last. Too often, as soon as we reach one peak, we spot another, taller one in the distance. Instead of taking in the moment, we find ourselves chasing the next big thing, caught in what’s known as the “hedonic treadmill”—always striving but never quite feeling like we’ve arrived.

But what if there’s another way? What if we chose to enjoy each step rather than waiting for happiness at the finish line? When we take time to celebrate small wins and appreciate the view along the way, the journey itself feels richer. We feel lighter, more energized, and success starts to feel less like a distant goal and more like a natural part of life. In fact, when we carry joy with us, we’re better prepared for the challenges ahead, as if we’ve packed an extra supply of strength and spirit for the road. Put another way, enjoying the journey resulted in success; joy proceeds and empowers success.

The best way to manage the temptation of the hedonic treadmill is to control our expectations and step onto it less frequently, with intention, care, and a clear goal—and just as importantly, an exit strategy. If we find joy in the journey, then success becomes a companion rather than a destination. And in the end, a well-lived life isn’t just about how high we climb—it’s about the stories we share, the laughter along the way, and the moments of wonder that make the journey truly worthwhile.