On Monday I attended the funeral of a good friend of mine from medical school, Andy Greer. He died suddenly while working a shift at Christchurch Hospital. He was 40.
I last saw him at another friend’s 40th birthday in September last year where we had a great conversation.
With his life cut short, it made me think.
I spend a lot of my life focused on impact, on achievement, on accomplishment… but it’s the small things, the magic moments, that are the things I cherish.
I’m thinking that this year I might focus a bit more on the small things that make life truly rich.
I guess they’re actually the big things.
One of the greatest lies we tell ourselves is that we’re falling behind. That someone else is ahead.
As a young man I associated strength with force; louder voices, sharper opinions, firm lines in the sand.
There’s a strange kind of pride we’ve developed in being exhausted. But even lions, the king of the jungle, rest.
I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't have ambition.
We sometimes believe strength means self-sufficiency — that being independent means being isolated.
We often try to outrun the storm, emotionally, physically, spiritually.
We’re entering an age where machines do our thinking before we’ve even had a chance to try.
In church the other day, the pastor gave a sermon that really stuck with me. He talked about two people.