A stranger called me lucky the other day. I smiled. If only they knew. The nights spent working while everyone else slept. The failed projects that never saw daylight. The times I sat there, questioning everything, wondering if I was just fooling myself.
Success has a way of erasing its own backstory. Once you reach the summit, no one remembers the mountain you had to climb. The bruises, the falls, the moments you nearly quit. All they see is the view from the top.
I used to think luck was this magical force some people had. Now I know better. Luck is more like a garden—throw enough seeds into the dirt, and something will grow. Sit around waiting for the perfect conditions, and you’ll be stuck with a barren field forever. I stopped waiting. I got to work. Built things, met people, put myself out there. And guess what? “Luck” started showing up everywhere.
Money, on the other hand, is an easy scoreboard. Clean, measurable, comparable. Also, a terrible compass for a meaningful life. I learned that the hard way—chasing higher numbers, thinking they’d lead to more happiness. They didn’t. You know what did? The things I kept pushing aside—relationships, health, purpose, the work that made me lose track of time.
At some point, I had to ask myself: What am I actually chasing? Because here’s the trick life plays on you—every time you hit a goal, a bigger one appears. Run a 5K? Now you want to do a half marathon. Get a promotion? Now you’re eyeing the next one. Humans are wired for this. We’re built to take on difficult things. That’s what keeps life interesting. The problem is, if you don’t define what success means to you, you’ll spend your whole life sprinting toward a finish line that keeps moving.
So, I started measuring my life differently. Not just by the numbers in my bank account, but by the moments that actually matter. The weekly dinners with people I love. The projects that make me forget to check my phone. The small wins—feeling stronger, sharper, more alive.
It took me a while to see it, but success isn’t just about climbing higher. It’s about making sure you’re on the right mountain in the first place. A single guiding principle helps cut through the noise. Mine is simple: Will this choice bring me closer to the person I want to become?
Life moves in seasons. What matters most will shift. Sometimes, it’s career growth. Other times, it’s stepping back to nurture relationships or try something new. The key isn’t to find the perfect balance—it’s knowing which season you’re in and honoring it.
So yeah, when someone calls me lucky, I take it as a compliment. It means they saw the highlight reel, not the behind-the-scenes footage. And that’s fine. I know what it took to get here. And I know I’m not done yet.
Leave a Reply