Beyond Business Travel

The longest journey is not across a city, country or ocean.

It’s the journey from one’s head to one’s heart.

I used to travel a lot on business, even when my kids were young. I’d get home late, maybe 11:30 PM from one trip, then get up at 6 AM to start another. One time, my daughter left a note for me on the coffee maker because she knew it was the best way to reach me.

The note said, “Mom, I love you.”

Those three words represented a sacrifice: the need to build a career, earn and accomplish.

My, did I have such airline points and privileges back then. I bought my business-class seats in bulk packs of 10, learned how to travel light and efficiently, using hotel cleaning services frequently. I figured out I could travel city to city in winter without a coat because some trips could be done entirely indoors and undercover.

Being available 24/7 carried bragging rights, as did being able to thrive on a few hours of sleep. I accomplished a lot, and won awards.

Yet I was often bemused that the satisfaction of each accomplishment seemed short-lived. Sometimes the culmination of many months or years of work felt satisfying for only a few minutes. Other times it felt hollow, like something was missing.

What I noticed was that the excitement and adrenaline of action and busyness lent a sense of adventure. It felt like I was doing something that mattered. Sometimes I mused that it felt like I was in an elaborate game: spending my health and well-being points in order to complete missions.

I was good at it.

What is success?

Having been on that path, I now look at career success differently.

I’ve read with interest obituaries where people are acknowledged at length for their many accomplishments. Which accomplishments hold real meaning?

When I’ve read and studied history, I've noticed the same thing. A few individuals stand out for what they did, but did it really matter? Why and to whom?

I visited a care home last week. A fellow arrived at my table, unable to move with ease or even hold a pen to write. As he was helped to steady his hand, he looked up from his illegible script, chuckling at his own scrawl, and mused that he used to be a senior executive of a very large corporation.

And then, almost as an afterthought, he noted: “Not that any of that matters.”

I understood. I had spent much of my own life collecting accomplishments, and I knew about the fleeting satisfaction they could bring.

In all of this intellectual pursuit of newness, growth, projects and accomplishment, it feels like it should have more meaning than it does.

Perhaps there is a strange contradiction in this word, achievement: Achieve-meant what?

We spend so much of our lives pursuing the next thing: the next promotion, the next project, the next accomplishment, the next indication that we are succeeding. And when we get there, we do it again. Repeat.

And that leaves me wondering: what are we actually pursuing?

What is happiness?

In conversation with a friend, we were contemplating happiness. Is it joyful? A celebration? A sense of gratitude? Or something else?

She said, “It’s contentment. Being content and not wanting for anything more.”

She went on to say that it's when your neighbour wins $10 million and, instead of thinking, I wish it were me, you are only glad for your neighbour. “That’s when you know you are content.”

Achievement asks: What have I accomplished?
Contentment says: I don't need anything more to be happy.

Achievement looks outward for evidence.
Contentment seems to arrive from within.

And perhaps that is why the journey from the head to the heart is so epic.

The head thinks things must be earned; wholeness is built, or won.
The heart knows happiness is found in the present; wholeness wants for nothing more.

The destination

For much of my career, I was very good at the game. I knew how to accomplish things. I knew how to be busy. I knew how to keep moving. In hindsight, I was spending my health points to complete missions.

It was fun. It was exciting. It felt like it was meaningful at the time. But it did not bring happiness.

I travelled a long way over several decades, yet I find my greatest joy at home, in the few deep breaths over a sip of morning coffee, and a simple note:

“I love you.”

Three words travelling the short distance, from the head to the heart.

In my book, Fear at Work, I explore the inner dynamics of what keeps us striving for more, and why happiness is so elusive. From the lens of people and our workplaces, we look at motivations, misunderstandings, and the path to well-being.

Perhaps the longest journey we ever undertake is not across oceans or continents.
Perhaps it is the small distance between what we know in our heads and find in our hearts.

Walk with me

D Best Inspired Coaching

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In the spirit of respect and truth, I honour and acknowledge that I live and work within the traditional, ancestral and unceded territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations.

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