Get Busy Living

What matters to you? I don’t mean abstract philosophical concepts like peace, love, and happiness. This isn’t a pageant interview. But I’ll ask again: What matters to you? More specifically, what aspects of your life matter to you? What are your personal and professional priorities? Who do you care about? Whose company do you enjoy? Whose presence do you value? Who and what make you better, as a professional, as a family member, as a parent or child, as a human being? What people, thoughts, items, attitudes, habits, foods, routines, and experiences help you live a better life?

Yes, that is a lot of introspection heading into a holiday weekend in the middle of summer. But don’t forget, the second half of 2026 just began, so it’s a great time to re-evaluate the year’s progress, and these questions serve a deeper purpose tied to a simple concept: Life Is Short. If you prefer, “life moves pretty fast,” as Ferris Bueller famously quipped. Or pick another favorite maxim — Live Life to the Fullest. Make Every Moment Count. Dance Like No One’s Watching. Time Waits for No One. Carpe Diem. These are all actually uplifting sentiments, geared toward personal progress. For me, they’ve been incredibly comforting of late, because I’ve recently been cataloging the losses I’ve experienced, either personally or vicariously, over the past few years.

Out of nowhere (not really, but it felt like it), I received the news recently that my high school graduating class is having its 40-year reunion this fall. Yes, I graduated high school in 1986; I’m old. I never attended my 10-, 20-, 25-, 30-, or 35-year reunions (most likely because I was involved in some kind of PA announcing gig or something similar), but I’ll actually be free to attend this year, and I really want to go. One of the requests made by an organizer was an update on all the members of our class that we know have passed away. They want to have a tribute featuring photos of those who are no longer around to join us, and I love the idea. Trouble is, researching for those kinds of projects is tough, not because the information is difficult to find, but because you have to learn or relive news about all the people who have died with whom you literally grew up. It’s a bit of a gut-punching exercise. Sometimes I’ve run across old stories about people who passed away tragically in an accident. More often, I’ve learned that several people in my class suffered with disease before passing away. I learned during this search that one of my friends whom I first met back in junior high had died suddenly in 2013 due to complications from the flu. I came to learn she had devoted her adult life to nonprofit service benefiting impoverished youth and homeless adults, and that her unexpected passing impacted many beyond her family. Empirically, I understand that tragedies like this are a statistical likelihood, but still, when it’s someone whose face, voice, and demeanor you remember perfectly, it hits you. When you learn about the things they accomplished in life before dying, and read tributes offered by those who knew them as adults, it can be heartbreaking.

The process became even more difficult as the layers I peeled back during this exercise revealed or reminded me of losses that weren’t in my graduating class. You come across news like this, and you fall down the proverbial rabbit hole, recalling loss after loss. I had a friend who graduated in 1985, who I had even encountered at a 5k race in 2019. I learned that he passed from cancer two years later. I remembered two different former teaching colleagues I knew from working summer drum major camps who had passed away in 2020 and 2022. I recalled another teaching colleague who had battled cancer tenaciously since 2019 but finally succumbed in the fall of 2025. A man I knew from my church died suddenly of a heart attack last August, literally days after I had spoken with him. I also learned recently that my supervising teacher from my student teaching experience had passed away in October 2024. Of course, there have been losses in my family in recent years, including my father in 2020 and my mother just this past February. Sure, death is a part of life, but it can be really sobering to explore it consistently.

But while it can be an easy trap to lament the fragility of life and offer a morose monologue like Billy Crystal at the beginning of City Slickers, what I realize more deeply after exploring these passings is that each day we have on this planet really IS a gift. We’re therefore called to do something with each day, aren’t we? I believe we are, regardless of whether one believes in God or not. But what we are specifically called to do isn’t necessarily some grand gesture, some massive project that revolutionizes things, or some miraculous achievement that will live in the proverbial record books for years to come. Sure, those are great, but there’s real beauty in life to be found from day-to-day activities, even if they might seem mundane. Beauty in being genuinely nice to others, not for any type of appearance or advantage, but just because we should. Beauty in doing certain things because they’re necessary, or helpful, or just the right thing to do. Beauty in being a decent human being. There’s beauty in just about everything around us, too, including nature and man-made things. I consider incumbent upon us to have at least marginal appreciation for the beauty of each day, and of this world, and to show it at some level.

Does this mean we all need to spin around every day like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music and sing? Of course not, although if that’s your thing, you do you. My point is that daily life is all about priorities. Just as we are called to certain things, we are NOT called to other things. We’re NOT called to drive angry, and gripe at other drivers. For that matter, we are NOT called to drive cluelessly, without regard for the rules of the road, mindlessly focused on ourselves, our phones or some other distraction. We are NOT called to obsess over every negative person at our work, or every menial task, or every annoying element. We are NOT called to negative emotions about things we see on the internet, annoying or offensive as they may be. We are NOT called to jealousy or judgment over things we see on social media. We are NOT called to obsess over political matters, nor are we called to wrap our own identities in affiliation with a political party or any politician. We are NOT called to wrap ourselves in isolation, constantly viewing the world only through the lens of video games, or YouTube, or other video sites, or social media, or even simply broadcast or cable television. Granted, some of the things I’ve just described can be unavoidable. Everyone has “one of those days” at work or at home. Everyone enjoys a little time in front of a TV or a computer. Everyone has encounters on the road, or at work, or at a store, that are challenging due to a disagreement, a misunderstanding, or just plain stupidity. These things will happen. But if your day is consumed or “ruined” by these things, you are missing an opportunity.

Every day is an opportunity for each one of us. We can notice the beauty of nature — blue skies, cool cloud formations, healthy vegetation, birds in the air, ducks on a pond, even dogs on walks with their owners. We can marvel at the intricacy of the network of roads we’ve managed to develop, even if we’re stuck in traffic or have to avoid bumps and potholes. Most importantly, we should acknowledge how fortunate each of us is to live and breathe in an era where life expectancy is as long as its ever been, and where so many of our “problems” are issues of inconvenience. Is it a perfect world? Far from it, but even as we work to resolve real problems like food insecurity, homelessness, and healthcare inequity, we can acknowledge good fortune, good works, and most importantly, good people.

At the end of the day (literally), the question becomes, on-balance, are we fulfilled? In other words, did the positives of our day outweigh the negatives? We know we’ll encounter negatives; it’s inevitable. Sometimes we have to seek out the positives to outweigh the negatives and achieve fulfillment. Daily fulfillment slowly adds up. At the end of our lives, we can look back not in anger, but in peace. This is why people say no one ever laid on their death bed wishing they could spend more time at work, or in traffic, or watching the news. Instead, they wish they could watch a sunset or sunrise, pet their dog, walk in the park, or have more time with their loved ones. It’s at the heart of “Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying,” from The Shawshank Redemption. I’ve written about this mindset before. In fact, I reposted those thoughts on the brevity of life with an audio version just last week. Knowing we will encounter negative stimuli in this world, knowing that fulfillment will ultimately come from the positives outweighing the negatives, it’s imperative every day for us to seek out that which enriches us and avoid that which strains us. To take the Shawshank metaphor a step further, we have to leave behind the prisons (often of our own making) that confine us, and seek something better. For many of those friends and colleagues that are gone too soon, I take comfort in the knowledge that they served others, that they didn’t die easy or angry, that they were surrounded by love and support, not jealousy, politics, bitterness, sloth, cowardice, or entitlement.

When I was in the classroom teaching economics, I always approached the concept of scarcity — unlimited needs and wants juxtaposed against limited resources — with a personal exercise for students: everyone has their time, talent, and energy, and the economics of an individual’s life hinged upon the choices they made with those resources. Students had to answer A) what they sought from their economic lives and B) how they might intend to achieve it within the confines of their time, talent, and energy. And the lesson always came back to this: Talent and energy can be manipulated, grown, and developed, but the only truly fixed quantity in our lives is time. And we waste way too much of it on things that don’t take us where we wish to go. (Talent and energy, too.) Given that reality, that frame of reference, why would we spend another minute thinking about people who do nothing but bring us down? Why would we care at all about what someone says about us online, or in a text, or even in a conversation behind our backs? Why would we engage with anyone who is fundamentally dishonest, or self-absorbed, or perpetually angry? Why would we worry about what someone else thinks about what we’re wearing, or watching, or doing with our time? Why would we remain working at jobs we hate that offer no redeeming qualities, moments, or co-workers? Granted, as I mentioned earlier, some things are unavoidable — all but a select few of us will have to work to earn money, we all have to clean and maintain our living quarters, we all have to complete menial tasks. But outside of what’s necessary, we are not obligated to immerse ourselves in the negative. And it really doesn’t matter if you’ve worked at this place for 10 years, or you’ve known this person forever, or your parents did things this way, or even if that person is a family member. If the day-to-day balance is negative, then sometimes habits, things, places, and even people need to become part of the past. Too often, we are overcome by the negatives and fail to immerse ourselves in the positives of life. We don’t make time for those things, people, and experiences that will fulfill us. Mohandas Gandhi famously said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” But before you can do that, you might have to facilitate the change you need to see in yourself. Feed the parts of yourself that need to grow. Spend your time doings the things, cultivating the habits, being around the people who make you, and your life, better. So I ask again: What matters to you?

Refurbishing My Hinges of Destiny

If the phrase “Hinges of Destiny” in the title of this post sounds familiar, that’s because it refers to a quote attributed to Pythagoras: “Choices are the hinges of destiny.” Most of us know the name Pythagoras because we learned the Pythagorean Theorem in geometry class. And Pythagoras is widely considered the “Father of Mathematics” (or the “Father of Numbers”) because he’s credited as the first person to view mathematics as a broader discipline, connecting numbers to philosophy, music, and even the universe. People relate Pythagoras to math, but he was really a philosopher above all, so what better person to quote in a catch-all blog called “On the Brink of Instruction?”

Now, I do not claim to be an authority on Pythagoras or Pythagoreanism, but the multi-disciplinary nature of his views and teachings are fascinating to me, especially as someone who taught economics for two decades. Anyone who’s taken high school economics knows that it is typically A) a requirement for graduation and B) not considered the most interesting class, on its face. Economics is often called “the dismal science” for a reason. So as an instructor, my goal was always to connect the study of economics to the broader “real” world, to make it more relatable for my students. I would always start each semester framing the study of economics as, truly, the study of choices. People take limited resources – the textbook factors of production being land, labor, capital, and entrepreneurship, along with others such as time, talent, and energy – and we figure out how to use them in the most productive and efficient possible way to achieve the best possible outcome. My class would obviously layer in the standard terms and concepts of the economics curriculum, since that’s the course, but not before we considered more philosophical ideas about choices affected by given constraints. “What do you want to do with the next minute of your life? The next hour? The next day? Week, Month, Year, Decade?” The fundamental core of the course was that economics is the study of how and why we make choices, and what happens as a result – the consequences of our choices, which ultimately produce our circumstances. That was the underlying framework.

Choices are proverbial building blocks for our lives, determining not just our circumstances but also our personalities and our character. Plus, choices also happen to be excellent fodder for memorable quotes and memes in pop culture. I’m a particular fan of “He chose…poorly. You have chosen wisely,” from Indiana Jones and the the Last Crusade. The importance of choices is a perfect continuation of my thoughts in my last post on the nature of New Year’s resolutions. And given the sentiments I’ve expressed in still another post about how my overall goal at this stage of life is mainly to be the best version of myself that I can be, some thoughts on choices would be a great starting point.

I’m not going to pretend to be an authority on humanity’s choices, behavior, psychology, or any connection among the three. There are a myriad of resources available in libraries and on the internet that provide exhaustive analysis. There are also therapeutic resources for those who need them to address their own personal choices. I can only speak to my own experiences, thoughts, and ideas regarding my efforts at resolutions in service to my personal goals for the year in terms of my voiceover career, my relationships, my health, my well-being, my daily life, and even my place in the world, lofty as that might sound. Those efforts are framed by a variety of things, including my faith, my family and friends, my personal history, my existing knowledge about psychology and behavioral adjustments, my influences, and really, my perspective of who I am now and who I want to be in the future. So this post offers personal musings that I hope might be useful to the reader, as opposed to some kind of help guide rooted in science and research.

With that in mind, I am beginning 2026 by carefully considering each day, perhaps even each hour, and determining how I want to spend it. Even now, as I write this post, I have decided that I’m spending the next X minutes writing, then I will stop and proceed to another task that needs to be done. Unless, of course, I get “on a roll,” and I need to make an adjustment to whatever plan I might have in real time. The process of resolution, and carrying it out – behavior modification, in a sense – is difficult because it’s often fluid. We wake up each day with the notion of “Today I’m going to…,” but perhaps something alters the plan. Maybe we wake up later than we intended. Maybe we devote more time than intended to a particular task, reducing the available time for other tasks. Maybe an emergency arises. Maybe we get sick. Maybe we just feel like doing something else instead of what we planned to do.

The constant process of adjustment in the face of our proverbial plans is really at the core of whether or not we will make the appropriate choice at the time we need to make it. And it truly is a constant process. What time will I wake up? How do I respond if my spouse wakes up in a bad mood? How do I react if I wake up in a bad mood – what do I do to correct it? What’s the first thing I will do today? Should I change lanes here, or there? How do I respond when another driver cuts me off? How do I react if a person at the store is rude? How do I address it if the restaurant gets my order wrong? What do I do if the grocery store is out of the item I intended to buy? Where do I go if I need help for an unexpected problem? Do I make this purchase? Do I really need that item? Do I need to eat more or less of this kind of food? Should I take the time to watch this TV show? What happens if I just take a few minutes to play that game on my phone? What about that book I want to read? In a free society that allows the individual to choose, questions like these can actually become overwhelming. I think it’s the main reason why so many New Year’s resolutions fail – we have good intentions, we’d really like to change, but when that important moment arrives and we need to choose restraint, or kindness, or exercise, or self-care, or remorse, or fruits & vegetables, or a little extra work, we lack impulse control. Or we revert to old habits. Or we embrace comfort and familiarity instead of the change we claim to seek.

Assuming we truly want to change and truly seek new goals for ourselves, then it is in those moments that making new choices, different choices, is the most critical. And as you might expect, it really takes thought, conscious consideration, and yes, work to make it happen. I used to teach drum major camps – every summer for 16 years. Every camp included leadership as part of the curriculum, which usually meant extensive discussion about how the students could influence and inspire their band members. And at every camp, without fail, we heard the question, “How can I help my band be more disciplined?” My answer typically followed the same theme: Discipline Is Habit. You can walk out of this camp saying you want your band to be more disciplined, but doing so will not magically give you a more disciplined band on Day 1 of band camp. And Day 1 of band camp won’t be nearly enough. You will have to plan on how to approach every rehearsal, every football game, and every performance, and you will have to follow through on that plan every time. The less disciplined your band has been in the past, the harder it will be – the harder you will have to work, the more effort you’ll have to expend, the longer it will take. The efforts will have to continue well past the heat of August. It will likely be hardest in mid-September, when it’s still kind of hot outside, you haven’t fully learned your show yet, and there hasn’t yet been a meaningful performance. That’s when you’re most likely to see a backslide into old, undisciplined, unproductive habits. And that’s when it is most critical to maintain your efforts toward your new choices, your new habits, your new goals. You may not realize that you’ve actually become “more disciplined” until months after deciding on it as a goal. And you will only achieve it through day-to-day effort over time.

So it goes with New Year’s resolutions. The old mantra of “21-day to create a habit” is a myth. Psychology researchers at University College of London did a study in 2009 that found, on average, it takes 66 days to establish new habits – although it can vary, depending on how simple or complex the habit is. You could theoretically establish a simple habit within the old 21-day timeframe, but something more involved might take over 250 days, so you’d better be ready to spend the better part of the next year putting in the work. That work will involve choices – intentional choices – over and over, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. Those choices will eventually turn into habits. Those habits might eventually become rituals, in a sense. And so long as those rituals lead us toward who we seek to be, then we know our efforts have been productive. But we won’t know it until the weather is much warmer. The conventional wisdom Is that most resolutions are abandoned by the second Friday of the year. Two Fridays! I can’t decide whether to call that pathetic or disheartening.

But that’s really what it comes down to, and I would like to think Pythagoras himself would appreciate it: Change Takes Work. Additionally, change takes time; it takes persistence. It’s the combination of persistent work over time that really leads to success, or the lack of it produces failure. It really leaves no room for excuses. No attempts to justify falling into old habits. No telling ourselves “I’ll get back to it again” when it’s convenient. Convenience, too often, is the mortal enemy of change. Persistence, meanwhile, is change’s best friend. I’m reminded of Jerry Seinfeld’s story about his own habits as an aspiring comedian. It took a simple wall calendar and a marker. His goal every day was just to write a joke; one joke per day. Once he wrote a joke, he marked a big X over that day on the calendar. Eventually, he had developed a chain of Xs on the calendar. The goal over time was, Don’t Break the Chain. That’s it. Nothing about outcomes. Nothing about the type or nature of the joke. Not even anything about how funny the jokes were. Just one joke per day, mark the X, do it every day. Does the rest “take care of itself?” Yes and No – there are obviously other aspects of comedy that Seinfeld worked on – delivery, timing, wording, etc. But the fundamental building block of his comedy career rested on making the conscious choice of committing to the work – writing one joke per day, until it became a chain, a habit, a ritual that fed his ultimate goal as a performer.

Personally, I will admit that I have established some lofty goals for myself in 2026, both in my voiceover career and as a person. I just might be more driven than ever about my 2026 resolutions, primarily because I’m no longer beholden to the K-12 public education career that had begun to weigh me down for several years. I have too often, in years past, used constraint, not convenience, as my excuse for abandoning my goals – my work in education got in the way then, but no more. I now get to pursue a career that offers me more control. I’m lucky that the constraints are now released, so I really believe the only things likely to hold me back are my own faults – laziness, apathy, excuses, comfort, bad habits. My limitations would be primarily self-imposed, so I intend to get out of my own way, get off the proverbial bench, and get after what I seek. Clean up and open my own proverbial “hinges of destiny,” as it were. I sincerely hope the people I can positively impact along the way will benefit from it. For you, friends, my wish is minimal constraints on your own goals, as well as maximum effort and energy toward your own pursuits. Choose wisely.


Speaking of new choices in 2026, I’m choosing to alter how I approach my blog, On the Brink of Instruction. I began back in August 2025 with weekly posts on either Tuesday or Wednesday. Going forward in 2026 and beyond, I will only offer new posts every other week. During the intervening weeks, I will post an audio version of the previous week’s post. After all, as a professional voiceover talent, it makes sense for me to take time to showcase my thoughts in my own voice. I will also be working on adding audio versions of my 2025 posts the best I can. Perhaps this new approach may offer new insight into just how warped and tortured my psyche became after 3 decades in education, and even new hopes for my attempts to claw my way back to actual humanity. OK, maybe that’s dramatic. But you get the idea.