Now, you’ve no doubt seen this question circulating amongst the well-intentioned, self-help best-seller bookshelves’ residents for years. It’s pulled out time and again as the ultimate refiner of focus, the samurai sword of the cut-through-the-fluff-ers’ arsenal, the go-to tool of the productivity heroes’ utility belts. Ready?

If you only had six months to live, what would you do right now?

Ta da! Answer that question, and all your troubles will be solved, right?

Well…

Answer that question, yes.

Like Leo says—and I agree with him completely—it can be a great reminder when the minutiae of life starts sucking you down like quicksand. It’s a great question for the moments when you get so fixated on busy-work that you’ve lost sight of what matters to you. It’s also a great question to keep in mind as you’re establishing your life’s priorities and goals, and writing New Year’s Resolutions (assuming anyone still does that anymore), and vacation planning (New Jersey, or Bali? Hmm…).

But, don’t use it when you should be asking something else.

When it comes to planning the vision of your company, this is perhaps the last question you should be asking. Unfortunately, it’s often pulled out in circumstances like this, because it’s seen as the end-all, be-all question. But it’s no Leatherman question, believe me. Why not?

Because this question gives you a view of your life that’s illusionary.

What, are you saying we’re going to live forever? No, silly… at least not physically.

But chances are pretty good that you’re going to be here longer than that… and you’d better plan for it.

If you were only going to live another six months, and knew it ahead of time, do you think you’d be solely concerned with the actions of your business? Hardly. You’d be looking at ways to get in as much family time, quality time, and personal time as possible. You’d be spending your time connecting with the people in your life that matter to you, getting your affairs in order, and maybe slipping in a few once-in-a-lifetime activities. I know I would.

What I wouldn’t be doing is revising my Facebook profile, blogging, twittering (much ), and I darn sure wouldn’t be redesigning my dream website.

Assuming, though, that you are going to be around longer, your questions change considerably. Ask yourself, instead, “If I was going to live another 40, 50, or 60 years, what would I be doing?”

Your answers change, don’t they. They probably change a lot.

Instead of thinking, “Skysurfing over Cozumel,” now you’re thinking, “Change the so-and-so industry,” or, “Expand my business internationally,” or, “Make a difference in the lives of every child in Ghana.” Not that it has to be ultra-grandiose, either… you could be thinking, “Grow my business to where I can sell it/retire in enough time to enjoy my grandkids.” Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what you come up with.

What matters is that you’re thinking about your life, not your endgame.

The problem I have with the six-months-to-live question is that it tends to obliterate the more common reality that you’re going to be here a while. You’ve got a chance to make an impact, in whatever way that matters to you. You’ve got a chance to make something of your self, your life, and your contribution to others.

The balance, of course, is to live for the moment at the same time you’re living for seven generations. Both perspectives are vital, and they aren’t mutually exclusive. You can do amazing things in the time you have, and have amazing times in the things you do. It takes focus, of course… and it also takes a realist’s eye to see where and how to apply it.

So…

If you only have forty years to live, what would you do right now?

Maybe you’d start taking your business more seriously. Maybe you’d take your health more seriously, or think a bit more about the person you share a bed with — or want to. Maybe you’d think of better ways to invest in your relationship with your kids.

Maybe you’d start reaching out and connecting with people more. Maybe you’d revise your Facebook profile, blog about something you love, start twittering (a lot ), and for darn sure, it’d be a good idea to start redesigning your dream website.

Is the ‘six month’ question useless?

Heavens, no. Overused? Probably. But still useful, in the right context, along with the other questions that take into account the much more likely scenario.

The question is, what would you do? Think about both questions, “six months” and “forty years”, and post your first thoughts to the comments, would you? I think it would be really helpful to see what others come up with.

Image by Rickydavid.

© Adam for Adam Kayce, 2009. | Permalink | 12 comments

If you want to make an impact in the world, you have to express yourself. And the way you’ve expressed yourself so far has been good, in that it has gotten you to where you are now. But if you want to go beyond where you’ve come, you need to make a shift. And making a shift in how you express yourself is one of the toughest things to do. (Spinning plates, juggling knives, doing a back handspring? Child’s play.)

Expression isn’t about words, and it isn’t about style… even though these factor into it heavily. It’s easy to get into ruts with your language, your catch-phrases, your metaphors. Expression is about viewpoints. It’s about perspective. It’s tied fundamentally to the eyes through which you see the world around you, and all the filters between your brain and the world it’s trying to make sense of.

Try this: think about your business. Think about who you serve, and what you do for them. Write it down. Keep it simple. Got it?

Now, come at it from a completely different angle, and do it again. Try seeing it as you’ve never seen it before. (Go ahead, take a minute and do it. I’ll wait.)

See how frickin’ hard that is?

You might have come up with some different phrases, or maybe a different way of languaging your process. Good for you. But did you notice how easy it was to slip back into your old way of seeing things? Did you feel how hard it was not to trudge down the same road as usual?

What does any of this matter?

It matters because it’s necessary. It matters because, in order to stay on top of the wave of a world that’s in constant flux, you have to constantly be reinventing your view on yourself. Why? Because people are constantly re-evaluating you each and every time they come in contact with you, and if you keep on spouting the same old tired platitudes, you’ll slip gently into the good night of obsoleteness.

As Hugh McLeod (of gapingvoid.com) wrote in his HughTrain Manifesto,

It’s no longer just enough for people to believe that your product does what it says on the label. They want to believe in you and what you do. And they’ll go elsewhere if they don’t.

It’s not enough for the customer to love your product. They have to love your process as well.

Now this isn’t some isolated business-speak, devoid of deeper implications or the need for actual human intimacy, here. Hugh goes on to say, “It’s not about merit. It’s about faith. Belief. Conviction. Courage. It?s about why you?re on this planet. To make a dent in the universe.” In other words, if you want to reach people, you have to dig deep. You have to extract the essence of what you’re about, and offer it up on a platter to anyone and everyone who reads you, gets in contact with you, or even remotely thinks about hiring you. And if you hope for being referred to others, be prepared to share your soul.

And, my friends, none of this can be done without some open-hearted introspection, dogged determination to strike to the core of who you are and what you do, and the genuine desire to connect with your fellow (wo)man. If you insist on mamby-pamby’ing around with superficialities, you’ll marginalize yourself. There’s too much ambient noise these days to just whimper, and expect to be heard. If you want to be heard, you’ve gotta yawp.

I know, I know…

This is tough stuff. This is bare-naked, raw-to-the-bone stuff. But it doesn’t have to be ugly. It can be a glorious sharing of your innermost desires, an arms-wide-open invitation to the world to glimpse the essence of who you are. And sharing of that magnitude rarely goes unrewarded.

Some may not like what they see. Some may object, driven by their own fears and doubts, and blame you for their pain. Others may counsel you to take a safer road, or keep hidden, or “appear professional (i.e. do ‘the ostrich routine’).” I say, let them have their way. You forge yours. Let them leave. You stay. And shine.

Some people—the right people, the people who matter—will love you for it. Why? Because you’ve given them something to love, something to wrap their hands around and hug. Those who stay hidden can’t touch, or be touched, like this.

It takes courage to step outside of your comfort zone. But that’s okay. I know you can do it. I believe in you.

Image by sleepysparrow.

© Adam for Adam Kayce, 2008. | Permalink | 10 comments