The question I'm asking myself

If you’re raising children right now, you’re already doing the most important thing you can do. (Image by 192635)

A friend of mine, who had been abroad when the coronavirus hit globally and was fortunate enough to make it safely home without contracting the virus, clarified his intentions toward the end of the summer.

“I asked myself, ‘When I look back on this time, what would I regret that I didn’t do?’”

Using this guiding question, my friend decided to play more tennis and read more.

My friend’s question is an important one. It’s not that the pandemic presents such a special opportunity, necessarily. Not all of us have the luxury of leisure time or abundant resources during the pandemic period. And the value is not that the question hearkens to some imagined pandemic-free future that is more relevant than today.

Rather, the question is key because it helps us to see what is most important to us right now. It allows us to spot the invisible priority that may be obscured by our day-to-day routines and concerns.

Such a buried agenda may always be present regardless of the pandemic. But with so many things in flux — the multitude of choices we’ve heretofore taken for granted that can no longer be made — there is an inevitable reckoning. I mean, I used to have a commute at rush hour. Now, there’s no rush hour. Of all the things I believed would never change about Atlanta, that was at the top of the list. But here we are. And now I have an extra ninety minutes every day. What might I do with that time? And what else am I overlooking, believing incorrectly that it is immutable?

It has long been a dream that someday, I will write a series of method books for the piano, guitar, and ukulele. As the seasons go by and the years pass, that youthful dream could fade into nothing if it’s not supported by a clear plan. Pandemic or no, the question arises: If not now, then when? I look around at my life and all of my excuses (otherwise known as “normal pre-pandemic activities”) are gone. This could be the moment wherein I make the shift from “someday” to “now.” There’s no good reason not to. I am so fortunate to be in good health, and I have nowhere to be.

There are other ways I could fill the time, for sure. But asking my friend’s question (“What would I regret that I didn’t do?”) gives me a clear and obvious answer: Write the THING. DO IT.

I doubt it will change my life or anyone else’s to write a piano book. The world probably doesn’t need another one. But I might as well cross off this item that’s been on my to-do list for a decade. What else have I got to do?

And as for you, if you’re healthy and in the position to make choices about your life that go beyond survival: How would you answer this question? When I look back on this time, what would you regret that you didn’t do? What matters most to you? What priorities are illumined for you? And does your answer surprise you?

There is no right or wrong way to live. And what matters is what’s happening today, not in the future — because that’s what we have control over. That said, a good question can trigger clarity and help us to make the thoughtful decisions now that are most likely to lead to a legacy we are proud of.