I’d ended up with mine.
One thing’s for sure: the list I’d just read was profound. I wished more people knew of “The 10 Human Regrets.” Just imagine the lost potential that would be avoided if businesspeople learned them and then broke out of any failure patterns they’d been working under. Just think of the good that would happen if kids in schools were educated on them. Just think of the human lives that would be saved right across our planet if “The 10 Human Regrets” were more widely known, so that they could be prevented at all costs.
It was in that moment that something deep within me changed completely. It was my proverbial lightbulb moment. The coin dropped. And everything clicked. I promised myself I’d dramatically turn around the way that I worked. I vowed that I’d instantly transform the way I lived. No more blaming the war for not being able to get back into the game. No more blaming my manager for not being able to do great work. No more blaming my past for my inability to win in the present. In that moment—tired and dirty, standing in some grave that my eccentric mentor dug well before the dawn of this breathtakingly beautiful day with its promise of a new beginning—I stopped making excuses. I assumed total responsibility for the consequences of my actions. And stepped into my best.
“Did you write these, Tommy?”
“I did, Blake, I did,” he repeated softly, wiping his hands with his Mickey Mouse handkerchief. His face looked serious. His voice was clear.
“Hell on earth is nothing more than ending up in this first grave. Hell on earth is nothing more than having these ten regrets fill your heart just before you die. Nothing will so destroy your spirit than getting to your deathbed standing amid these ten conditions. True human heartbreak is reaching your final moments and realizing that you wasted the most important gift that was given to you—the chance to present your magnificence to the world around. Here’s one of the most important leadership insights I can share with you, Blake: potential unrealized turns to pain. And the really sad thing is that the violence of mediocrity and a life poorly lived creeps up on people. It happens so quietly and ever so invisibly. And then—wham—it just tears you apart!” he exclaimed, slapping his hands together in a loud clap.
“One of the big ideas I learned from one of the genius leadership teachers you are about to meet is this one: success is created through the performance of a few small daily disciplines that stack up over time to produce achievements far beyond anything you could have ever planned for. These little success habits are so easy to do each day that most people don’t think they’ll make a difference. And so they just don’t do them.”
“So success is actually easy,” I spoke, remembering what Tommy had said by restating it. “Anyone can reach success if they consistently do the right things. And these little choices and small behaviors build up over time. I guess it’s momentum at play. So eventually, anyone can get to the extraordinary place that seemed impossible to reach when they first started. The process sort of makes me think of a farmer. Seeds get planted. The crop gets watered, and the soil gets fertilized. Nothing seems to be happening.”
“And yet the farmer doesn’t give up. The farmer doesn’t run out into the field and start digging to find vegetables,” Tommy offered lightheartedly.
“The farmer has patience and trusts the process. He just has the faith and deep understanding that through his daily efforts, the harvest will come. And then one day, almost out of nowhere, it does.”
“You’re a smart guy, Blake. Awesome metaphor, my friend. Your dad was right. You’ve got a ton of potential. Good on you!” he applauded happily. “We need to be more like farmers,” Tommy repeated to himself. “This one’s good,” I heard him say under his breath.
Not a cloud filled the sky.