The Rhythm of Life

One of the strange and false ideas that are propagated in the modern world is that an important and successful person is always busy. Another of those strange ideas is that material success is the measure of greatness. Many people judge others, and are judged themselves, by how busy they are and how much money they earn. The result is that many rush around in a frenzy, dressed in designer label clothes, trying to give the appearance that they are busy and earning a lot of money—after all, these are the signs of success!

The cost of such a lifestyle is the loss of the necessary consistency and rhythm in our lives. The cost of this type of success is often the loss or failure to find one’s very self—our truest and deepest desires, talents, dreams, needs, and the necessary pursuit of these. Sadly, with our focus fixed so firmly on these other, less important, almost inconsequential things, many of us are completely unaware of what we have lost or are missing.

We need to dedicate ourselves to our development as a person—body, heart, mind, and soul. There is nothing more important in life. I know it, you know it, but we let the things we do get in the way. We get carried away with doing. We become human doings. Life is about being and becoming. We must remind ourselves continually that there is nothing more important than our development as human beings.

I used to think I was busy, but then I met one or two people who were really busy. The thing I learned from these people who truly did have an enormous amount of work and responsibility is that they have order. They have a rhythm. They know their priorities and resist sacrificing their health—physically, emotionally, intellectually, or spiritually—merely for a couple of hours’ extra work or a few more dollars.

Rhythm and order create harmony and efficiency.

Each morning my assistant presents me with a list of things that he thinks should be attended to that day. The list includes phone calls to be made, letters to be written, meetings to attend, and my travel schedule. On top of those things I need to set time apart to pray, write, exercise, and stay in touch with family and friends. Every day I go through the list and say to something, “I -won’t have time to do that today.” In itself, that is fine. Nobody can do everything. What is critical is what I decide to exclude and why I decide to exclude it.

When was the last time you said, “I don’t have time!” either to an idea in your mind or to a person? What was it that you didn’t have time to do? For most people it is something like spending time with the family or taking the time to look up an old friend and make sure that life is not treating her too harshly. For others it is exercise or that extra time it takes to eat properly. And at one point or another, for all of us, it is prayer. Yet if God appeared to you right now in a vision and told you that three weeks from today you would be making the journey from this life to the next, would you rush back to work to make your millions? Would you rush out to the mall to make sure you had the right clothes to die in? No. Most of us would spend time with family and friends and, in some way, try to prepare ourselves for that journey to the next life.

We do not know how long our lives on this earth will last.

Some things are more important than others. Prayer, reflection, meditation, and a life with rhythm remind us of this truth and help us to remain focused on the things that are really important.

In my life I have found many things. As a boy I once found a beautiful soccer ball in the park just down the road from our home in Sydney. When I arrived home with the ball, my mother inquired as to where it had come from. I told her I had found it. She asked, “Where did you find it?” and I told her, “Down at the park.” Then she said to me, “Did it occur to you that someone might come back for it, or that the person who has lost it is very sad right now?” She paused and then continued, “How would you feel if that was your soccer ball and you had lost it?”

I sat in a big green armchair in the corner of the dining room with the ball grasped to my chest while a few minutes of that deadly silence passed—the silence that even as a child you know means you have done something not altogether right. My mother kept about her business in the kitchen, preparing dinner, and then, knowing she had given me just enough time to think about the situation, said, “I think you should take the ball back to the park now and leave it where you found it.”

After that I found other things. One day I found a watch, and at a carnival once I found $50. But I have never found time. It just never happens. Sometimes people ask us, “When are you going to do this?” or, “When are you going to do that?” I have discovered that when my reply to these questions is, “When I find time!” I never do those things. I never find that time. Even as a child I learned quickly that from the moment we are born into this life and placed on this planet, there is more to do than can ever be done, more to see than can ever be seen, and if something is important, we must make time.

We must decide what is really important, really necessary, make it a priority, and make time. Otherwise the siren call of the world will always keep us busy and distracted from what really is important. What really counts?

There is a short prayer that I like to use often during the day, particularly during busy times: “God, help me to see that so few things are really important and to at least take care of these first.”

Our priorities should not be based on a material goal. Rather, we should use our time and our talents to develop our whole person. Our own development should be our top priority. When we are fully alive, in every way, striving toward perfection, we experience the profound joy of life.

Finding the rhythm of life is largely about reassessing our priorities and reallocating our resources and energies according to those new priorities. The result is the whole person, a person fully alive, striving to grow, develop, and perfect the various aspects of our character.

Once upon a time there was an investment banker. He lived in New York City, was phenomenally successful, and made a ton of money. But his life was busy, noisy, and very stressful.

So, once a year, he would leave the city and go down to a small coastal village in Mexico. For two weeks he would rest, relax, and allow himself to be rejuvenated.

One day he was standing on the pier just before lunch, looking out to sea, when he noticed a small fishing boat coming in to dock. He thought this was a little strange, because most of the fishermen used to stay out late into the afternoon so they could catch as many fish as possible, before coming in and preparing the fish for market.

Curiosity overcame him. So he walked over to where the fishing boat was about to dock. Looking into the boat, he saw just one fisherman and several large yellowfin tuna.

“How long did it take you to catch those fish?’ he said to the fisherman.

“Not very long,” the fisherman replied with a smile.

“Is there something wrong with your boat?” the American asked.

“Oh, no,” the fisherman said. “In thirteen years I have never had a problem with the boat.”

The American was a little perplexed, so he asked the fisherman, “Why don’t you stay out there longer and catch more fish?”

The fisherman smiled again and said, “I have plenty for my -family’s immediate needs. Some of the fish we can eat, and the others we can sell or trade for the other things we need.”

“But it’s not even lunchtime. What do you do with the rest of your time?”

“In the morning,” the fisherman explained, “I like to sleep late. When I wake I fish a little, mostly just for the pleasure of fishing. In the afternoon I play with my children and take siesta with my wife. In the evenings I have dinner with my family. And then, when my children are sleeping, I stroll into the village, where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos.”

The American scoffed and said, “I’m a Harvard MBA and I can help you.”

The fisherman was a little skeptical, but nonetheless he obliged and asked, “How?”

“You should fish longer every day,” the American counseled, “late into the afternoon. This way you will catch more fish, make more money, and you can buy a bigger boat. With the bigger boat you will catch even more fish, make even more money, and then you can buy another boat and hire another man to work the second boat.”

“But what then?” the fisherman inquired.

“Oh, we are just getting started,” the American volleyed. “With two boats you’ll catch even more fish and make even more money, and before you know it, you’ll have a whole fleet of boats and every man in the village looking for work will come to you.”

“But what then?” the fisherman asked.

“Before too long, you can cut out the middleman, sell your fish direct to the cannery, and make more money. As your fleet of boats continues to expand, you can build your own cannery. And before you know it, you’ll be able to leave this small coastal village, move to Mexico City, and manage your expanding enterprise.”

“But what then?” the fisherman persisted.

“Well then, you can begin to ship your fish to different parts of the world. Down into Asia and Australia and up into North America. And as demand grows for your fish, you can leave Mexico City, move to Los Angeles, open a distribution plant there, and begin to ship your fish to Europe and every corner of the globe.”

“But what then?” the fisherman asked again.

The American continued, “By then your business will be one of the great ventures of the industry. You can move to New York City and manage your empire from the epicenter of the business world.”

“How long will all this take?” the fisherman asked.

“Twenty-five, maybe thirty years,” the banker explained.

“But what will I do then?” the fisherman asked.

The American’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “That’s the best part,” he said. “When the time is just right, you can go down to Wall Street, list your business as a public company, offer an IPO, and make millions and millions of dollars.”

“Millions?” the fisherman asked.

“More money than you ever dreamed you could earn in ten lifetimes,” the American explained.

“But what then?” the fisherman asked.

The American didn’t know what to say. He had reached his climax. He was stumped. But then a thought crossed his mind and triggered an idea, and he turned once more to the fisherman and spoke.

“Well then, you could move to a small coastal village…. You could sleep late…. You could fish just for the pleasure of fishing. …In the afternoons you could take siesta with your wife…. In the evenings you could have dinner with your family…and then you could stroll into the village and sip wine and play guitar with your amigos…”