Preface
If we met at a party and you asked about my interests, I would tell you my hobby is time and life management.
I'm obsessed with the challenge of living a regret-free life, the regrets that are in my control at least.
The source for this can be effortlessly pin-pointed to my youth—a period of time I largely squandered.
To think now of the thousands of hours I spent at the arcade or on watching television or sleeping into the afternoon, I'm tempted to launch myself from the rooftop.
But what keeps me from climbing the stairs are the thousands of hours that lie ahead, hours I intend to use improving my mind, and bettering my enjoyment of this life experience.
The day the messenger with this epiphany in hand finally forced his way to the front of my consciousness, the meaning of time became something new to me.
Since then I value my time, I value it above all else.
I am a man who against seemingly insurmountable odds:
- married my dream girl who when I met her had many other suitors (all of them on paper better qualified at the role of husband than myself),
- landed my dream job which at the start seemed wildly out of reach (all who heard my far-fetched vision mocked the sad boy's dreams),
- and after a twenty year slide I am months away from recovering my college-age waistline and weight (weight that in addition to piling on raw pounds added a mess of mental and physical luggage as well).
Given my time management hobby and my past unlikely successes, people sometimes approach me for advice. The proclamations are typical:
- I want to lose weight.
- I want to get a promotion.
- I want to quit smoking.
- I want to quit drinking.
- I want to rejuvenate my marriage.
- I want to find more time with my kids.
- I want to go back to school.
- I want to get organized.
- I want to run a marathon.
- I want to switch careers.
There was a time I became giddy at hearing these challenges.
I would excitedly light up at the discovery.
I'd request details—
Where are they now?
What have they tried?
Where are they struggling?—
After getting a sense for things I'd give them my "If I were you" advice.
This was always advice I knew would work for me, thus advice I deemed time-tested and bullet-proof.
But when I'd bump into folks later and ask them about their progress,
virtually every time their struggles continued or maybe even worsened.
I left every one of those interactions dumbfounded until the next wishful person came along. Then, I'd swivel my focus to them and the cycle would repeat.
One day the record of my counsel set in.
Given my success using the same methods, how could my advice be failing each and every time?
It made no sense to me.
At some point after this realization, someone approached me for help.
I looked to them not excited, but spent, near exhausted.
I unexcitedly asked what they wanted to do.
They told me.
I then gave them the best piece of advice I've ever given anyone.
It's a piece of advice I've since given out dozens of times.
And it is a piece of advice that has never failed.
That piece of advice is what this book is about.
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