I’m going to come clean about something I’m not proud of: one of my most used phrases is “I’ll just…”.
There, I said it. You’re probably thinking, “OK, and…?”
I agree, it doesn’t sound like something to be hard on yourself about. Until you consider the effect of having “I’ll just…” as one of your most used phrases.
I’ll just finish this, then take a break. I’ll just get to the start of the next session, then hang out with the kids. I’ll just make those calls, then spend quality time with the family.
Sound familiar?
Good intentions that, if you’re anything like me, rarely, if ever, work out as hoped?
It doesn’t work because there’s always something else to do. The list never gets shorter. For every item you complete, two more appear. Before you know it, “I’ll just do this and then take a break” becomes “I’ll just do this and this and, when that’s done, I’ll just do…”.
I’ve lived this way for years. And my family and I have paid a price. But I’ve always justified it: it needs doing, I have to earn money, once this is done things will be different and we can start living.
Always tomorrow. Never today.
By validating putting all my energy into working rather than living, I was justifying a lie: that the work I do is more important than the person I am.
I prioritised doing above being and becoming. And that is back-to-front.
The realisation that I’d been justifying a lie truly hit me when I was forced to contemplate my own mortality.
In that moment, as I digested what I’d been told and what it could mean, I found myself contemplating what the future might hold.
That process made me realise I was not immortal – my days were numbered and what has gone I would never get back. I’d always thought I’d have tomorrow to put things right, but facing mortality brought home that the only certainty was the present.
It made me realise that, as important as pursuing my vision was, the things I had neglected for years—my wife, my kids, my own growth—mattered more than anything I could do or create.
If I’m honest, I’d always known that, but never truly appreciated its significance.
Whether you’re pursuing a cause, fixing what’s broken, or simply putting food on the table, finding balance in your priorities is hard. You find yourself torn between competing demands: if you spend time simply being and becoming, you take from what you’re doing and creating. And vice-versa
It can feel like a no-win situation. But while the work you do is important, the life you live—who you are and who you become—is paramount.
So here’s what really hit me: how much more could I do and create if I become all of who I’m meant to be?
How much richer will my work be if it’s the product of me, rather than the other way around?
What if, instead of pursuing a definition of my life founded in what I produce, I focus on one founded in my character?
I began to think about people who’ve created great things and realised they share one thing: in most cases they are men and women of great character. For them, creation is simply a by-product of their being.
And maybe that’s not just a lesson for me, but for all of us who seek to live our real lives.
What would it be like if we made being and becoming our main focus, and allowed what we do to flow from there?
I think it would be amazing. How about you?
