Tag Archives: contemplation

You’re already doing enough.

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The following is an excerpt from ‘The Diary Of A CEO with Steven Bartlett: Chris Williamson: If You Don’t Fix This Now, 2026 Is Already Over!, Dec 28, 2025’

Chris Williamson shared this question, which Steven Bartlett offered back to him, “If this was a movie and the audience were screaming at you, what would they be screaming?”

Here was Chris’ response:

“You’re already doing enough. You’re already doing enough. Stop whipping yourself into submission, thinking that your happiness sits on the other side of the next set of goals that you’re going to achieve.
You’ve already achieved goals that you said would make you happy. So if you haven’t made it now, if this isn’t when life is going to begin, then when are you going to start? There’s this wonderful idea of the deferred life hypothesis.
Deferred life hypothesis is basically the sort of common belief that our life hasn’t yet begun, that what’s happening now is a sort of prelude, it’s an intro to our life truly beginning. And upon reflection, what a lot of people realize is that this prelude that they run through was a mirage that sort of faded as they approached and they were actually just running toward the end of their life. Like they’re permanently putting things off.”

Wow! This is powerful.

“You’ve already achieved goals that you said would make you happy.”

How much do we defer for after we reach the next goal, the next stage, the next level or achievement? We neglect to celebrate our successes while in pursuit of the next… and the next… and the next… success.

I’m left thinking of my #OneWord for this school year: PAUSE.

“There is a lot I’m going to miss when I leave this job, what I don’t want to do is miss things while I still have time to enjoy them. I’m going to seek out opportunities to take pause in my day and truly experience the things I cherish.”

I want to leave my two schools in a way that they will thrive when I’m gone. The thing is that I can’t get lost in this goal and not take the time to appreciate all that I’ve already done. I’m not going to postpone happiness now so that I can feel slightly better about retiring and moving on. Joy doesn’t get put on hold ‘until I retire’.

This concept has really hit me. I am already doing enough… Appreciating this over the next 6 months will make this journey far more enjoyable. I will have spent 14 years with Coquitlam Open Leaning and 13 since Inquiry Hub was founded. I’ve spent those years hitting targets and goals, and working with my teams to make the schools better. I have done enough. That doesn’t mean that I don’t keep pushing, and I plan to leave everything as good as I can… but I don’t need to put blinders on and defer anything to finish off the last few months. Happiness, moments of pause, a sense of accomplishment… these are things that don’t need to wait.

Moments of silence

There was a time when moments of silence were golden. When being alone with my thoughts was quiet and contemplative. When no sound meant calm and inspired serenity.

Now I fill those moments. I listen to books, podcasts, and music. I avoid the silence because that’s when my tinnitus gets loud… and even if I wanted that silence, I wouldn’t get it. My tinnitus is a constant tone, for others it’s like crickets. For anyone who has it, it’s the end of silence.

But there is another kind of silence. It’s the quiet of the mind. It’s like an ocean without waves. This is even more elusive. It is the moments when our minds are not reliving the past or creating unlikely futures. It is when our minds are not thinking about our schedule, worrying about our responsibilities, or planning our next moment, meeting, or meal.

It is when there is nothing to do, but there is no boredom.

It is when nothing is pressing, and there is no need to rush.

It’s also when you don’t seek a distraction. But now the distraction is always there. It looks like Facebook or TikTok, Instagram or Twitter, YouTube or Audible, text or email, WhatsApp or Snapchat.

We have let technology steal away our moments of silence. We are robbed of those golden moments. The dopamine rush of the next notification is too great to resist, and too daunting to allow silence a chance. Silence is no longer a desired state, it is a state of absence to avoid, not a desired state of stillness.

Moments of silence were already elusive, now they are all but nonexistent. I even wonder if for someone younger, who spent their teen years with a smartphone, if silence was ever known, is ever desirable? Or is this just a nostalgic ideal?

It’s quiet now, but my tinnitus sings it’s ever present song, and I put on some background music. The silence is gone.

Sitting Under a Large Tree

Sitting under a large tree, staring up at the branches, I can see that wind is a fickle thing. Some leaves and branches lay motionless, while others sway back and forth, while still others dance. The tree doesn’t resist. A larger gust of wind picks up, more of the tree moves this time, it undulates, absorbing the larger force, then settles down again.

Sitting under a large tree, I can imagine my ancestors doing the same. The kind of tree might have varied, but the experience would have been almost the same for hundreds and even thousands of years.

Sitting under a large tree can provide shade, shelter, even food. But more than anything, sitting under a tree provides time for quiet contemplation.

The wind blows, and leaves and branches dance again.

What could have been

I feel it every year.

It’s the last official day of school, an administrative day. Students picked up report cards yesterday and teachers wrap things up today. This is the day that I look back and think of what could have been. I think of the lost opportunities, the missed potential, the goals unmet.

I know I’ll look back and see the accomplishments as summer begins, but for some reason this day has always been melancholy, and sadly nostalgic (if that makes sense). It’s weird. I don’t tend to be the kind of person that holds regrets and wallows on missed opportunities, but this day always harbours feelings that the year could have been better. Specifically, on this day I look back and feel that I could have, and should have, been better and given more of myself to the school year.

It’s a feeling that’s hard to shake, through the goodbyes and the well wishes for a wonderful summer. It will go away, but today it sits with me, now and throughout the day ahead. Oh, what could have been! It sounds sad, but in a way, it holds me accountable and makes me want next year to be better. There are “promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

While the past holds many successes, and the future holds much potential, today I sit with what could have been.