This Almost Ruined Me

I had this delusion that there was a finish line in business. I had thought that I would hustle, build my reputation, fill my practice, fill my bank account, and watch it start to go on auto pilot.

Ah — nope.

Now, don't get me wrong. We have systematized and automated much in my business, but the truth is there is no finish line. There is no moment when you kick back and watch it all happen. Now that I think back I am not even sure why I wanted things to go that way. Maybe I was tired from my job or dreaming of doing nothing for just a little while. When I say it now it seems silly — I love what I do. Why would I want to do nothing?

But, so many people email me and say they can't wait to be where I am. They can't wait to sit back and have made it.

I now know that is the kiss of death. None of this is about "making it" or money. It is all about the journey. The minute the journey stops... the minute you get comfortable... the minute you stand at the finish line then you are finished. I think the finish line could have ruined me in business. What would there be to learn from, grow into, or stretch?

Trust me. You don't want a finish line.

I think what you really want is not to struggle and that is accurate thinking. Struggle is optional. Effort is required. Life is richer when you are in the race (not the rat race) and you are running to beat your last best time.

What you really want is to be asking yourself what can I do to reach my fullest potential today and how can I help others reach theirs? The minute you live into the truth that this will never be "done", money will follow. You have to embrace the continual process of work. Work is not a dirty word.

The definition is: Physical or mental effort or activity directed toward the production or accomplishment of something.

I like that.

Give me that life. To wake up every day and make effort for the accomplishment of something good. Take it from me — eliminate the delusion of the finish line. You'll be happier and you'll get more done.

(c) 2010 Suzanne Evans