People say to me, “For a doer of important things, you sure spend plenty of time at home in bed.” Ha! To this I push back with Seneca: “Not one of my days passes in idleness, and I steal part of the night for study.” Audience size doesn’t set my workload. You might not see it, but I’m moving the needle forward every day. I may be a lucky frog, but I know that laying a foundation for long-term success is slow, deliberate work.
We all know the legends of overnight success—the folks who hit it big on pure luck. Trouble is, luck isn’t under your control. Windfalls are mixed blessings, bestowing benefits now while also tugging your compass off true north. That’s because fortune breeds dependency. You guard the stash, reorder life around its upkeep, and label the vigilance “success.” Now you have a higher burn rate, a queasy fear of falling, and you risk forgetting how to do things the hard way. Whatever luck gives you isn’t truly yours—and anything fortune bestows, fortune can reclaim.
I used to worked with a man whose life was a maze. His wealth exploded into options, along with entanglements: demanding family life with a young wife and young children, backup homes on three continents, art collections, nonstop “holidays,” everyday hassles multiplied for each property and family member, pets on private jets, daily schedules full of lawyerly check-ins just for personal matters, plus a social calendar weighed down by gilded-class norms. Most waking hours went to maintaining all that, with little remaining for the job he was paid to do. Every minute polishing that prized marble collection is a minute stolen from focusing on things that matter. Everyone defines success differently, but chasing it can lead you right off a cliff, becoming more perilous the higher you climb.
Not for nothing, but that’s why I pare life to essentials. Food, water, clothes, roof—keep them simple and the mind stays nimble. Extras are maintenance bills in disguise. Just remember, a thatched roof keeps out rain as well as gilded cornices.