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About 35 years ago, shortly before my bar mitzvah,
my grandfather gave me the best advice. For over
thirty years, I ignored it.
We were sitting on a swing on the porch of his
row house. He and I had been having a series of
chats about life. Early on, I was put on notice
that this one was gong to be different. He grabbed
my attention with a very personal secret: he was
once in love…in the old country…she
was beautiful, carefree, fun…nothing like
my grandmother… This was my first dose of
adult candor. I felt honored, titillated, and
filled with curiosity. Never before and never
again did I see him with that far-away, wistful
look.
Then he caught himself, shifted gears, put on
his familiar grandpop face, and began:
• Do what you love.
• If you do what you love, you’ll
get good at it.
• If you get good at it, you’ll always
make a
living.
• In the unlikely event you don’t
make a great living, at least you’re doing
what you love.
What a waste of simple wisdom. I knew that there
was richness in this advice. But I was thirteen.
I didn’t get it. I think he knew I didn’t
get it. He looked sad.
No, I didn’t follow his advice. I filed
it away. Ignored it for decades. But never forgot
it.
I proceeded to search for my parade of pots of
gold. It’s what “they” expected
of me. It’s what I expected of myself. At
my first full-time job, I earned almost 50% more
than my friends were earning. But that wasn’t
enough for me. So I delivered pizzas on Friday
and Saturday nights. Then I discovered how much
more money I could earn selling mutual funds.
In the blink of an eye, I was the president of
a boutique financial services company with a seat
on the stock exchange, etc. Over the years, I
owned and/or ran a series of different companies
(or divisions of companies) – many were
successful, a couple were not.
As I think back over my first thirty-something
years of adulthood (more like adolescence), I
realize how I didn’t give a damn whether
my companies generated mega profits. Oh sure,
I loved the trappings…and the toys…
But there was no energy for me beyond the bucks.
Something was missing - something that mattered
a lot, even if I couldn’t articulate it.
More recently, I abruptly abandoned the industry
in which I’d been immersed. I took off July
and August. I enrolled in some college certificate
courses. It was intellectually engaging –
nothing else.
Then I lucked into a seminar that focused upon
changing careers over the age of fifty. For three
months, I explored who I was and what I cared
about. What I valued. What I wanted. What I needed.
Towards the end of the series, each participant
had the opportunity to brainstorm career options
with the group. Lots of terrific suggestions were
offered to me – all flirted with what seemed
to be missing (combining entrepreneurship with
culture…or teaching…etc.). The facilitator
of the group then suggested that he had a suggestion
that he’d known since the second week of
the seminar – that I was a coach…always
had been a coach… (He didn’t tell
me when it first occurred to him, because he was
afraid that I would drop out of the seminar, and
pursue coaching.)
I had no idea what it meant to be a coach, I only
knew that someone I trusted thought I already
was one. That night, I went on the web, and surfed
“coaching” until 3:30 am. When my
wife awoke, I told her that I would become a coach.
Coaching was my juice – listening to people,
hearing them, getting a sense of what they’re
about, helping them to find their own paths. I’ve
never looked back.
Maybe if I had heeded my grandpop’s advice,
I would have landed in my authentic journey sooner.
But it doesn’t matter. I like who I am now.
I like where I am now. My earlier mistakes brought
me to this place, where I encourage clients to
do what they love… I do.
It’s never too late.
Thanks, grandpop.
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