I am 92 years old. I have outlived my wife. I have outlived my friends.
I have outlived my enemies. [music] And I've I've outlived the version of myself that used to give a damn about what people thought of me. I am standing at the very edge of the cliff.
[music] I can see the bottom. And before I go over, I need to turn around and tell you, the people still back there at the party, what I see. [music] Because you are living a lie.
You are walking around with this arrogant, comfortable delusion that you have time. You treat your days like they are cheap, like you have an infinite supply of them [music] in the bank. So, uh, I'm here to tell you that you are broke.
We are all going to die. You know this intellectually, but you don't know it. You don't feel the cold steel of it against your neck.
[music] If you did, you wouldn't be living the way you are. [clears throat] So, uh, [music] let me tell you about a man named Jack. It was 1968.
Jack was my best friend. [music] He was smarter than me, better looking than me, and [music] richer than me. He was a shark.
We were having a drink one night, celebrating a massive deal he just [music] closed. He was smoking a Cuban cigar, leaning back in his leather chair, and he looked at me and said, "Frank, [music] five more years. That's the strategy.
I grind for five more years. I hit the number. [music] Then I'm done.
Then I take Mary to Italy. Then I learn to paint. Then I start living.
[music] Jack had a plan. He had a road map. 3 days later, um Jack walked out of his office building, grabbed his chest, [music] and hit the sidewalk before he even realized he was falling.
[music] massive heart attack. He was 42 years old. He never went to Italy.
He never painted a damn thing. I stood over his casket. [music] And the tragedy wasn't that Jack died.
We all die. [music] The tragedy was that Jack spent his entire existence [music] waiting to live. He treated his life like a waiting room [music] for a better future that never arrived.
And the crulest part, uh, I went to his office a week later to clear out his desk. His calendar was booked for the next six months. His inbox [music] was full of urgent messages.
The world didn't stop because Jack died. His company replaced him in two weeks. His clients forgot his name in a year.
And right now, looking at you, I see Jack. You are telling yourself the same lie. I'll be happy when I get the promotion.
I'll take the trip when the kids are older. I'll forgive my brother when he apologizes. Let me give you a hard fact from a 92year-old man.
There is no later. There is only now. And if you are trading your now for a later, [music] that isn't guaranteed.
You are making the worst bet in the history of gambling. Let's talk about your stuff. I look at your generation.
You are obsessed with accumulation. You buy things you don't need, with money you don't have [music] to impress people you don't even like. I live in a small room now.
I have a bed. I have a chair. I have a picture of my wife.
I used to have a big house. I used to have a luxury cars. I used to have a garage full of toys.
And I am telling you, um, with the absolute clarity of the endgame, [music] it is all garbage. I have been to a lot of funerals. I have never, not once, seen a U-Haul trailer following a hearse.
When you die, your kids are going to hire a stranger [music] to come into your house and throw 90% of your precious stuff [music] into a dumpster. The other 10% they'll sell at a yard sale for quarters. That is the sum total of your materialism.
[music] Future trash. So why are you putting yourself down so far to buy it? Why are you working 60 hours a week, missing your daughter's childhood [music] to pay for a car that sits in traffic?
It is madness. [music] And you won't realize its madness until you are sitting where I am sitting. And by then, it is too late to return the merchandise.
Let me tell you about the big victory. It was 1979. I won the businessman of the year award in my city.
Big banquet, [music] black tie. I walked up to the podium. People applauded.
I felt like a god. I felt like I had won the game. I went home that night holding the trophy.
My house was dark. My wife Elanor was asleep. My kids were asleep.
I sat at my kitchen table alone drinking a scotch staring at this piece of glass. And I realized the applause had stopped. The people at that dinner didn't care about me.
They cared about what I could do for them. And the people upstairs, the people who actually love me, I had neglected them for months to win that piece of glass. I miss my son's varsity games [music] to stay late at the office.
I miss my anniversary dinner to close a merger. And for [music] what? That trophy is currently in a box in a basement somewhere.
I don't even know where it is. But the memory of my wife's sad eyes when I told her I couldn't make it to dinner, that is right here. That stays.
You think your career is your legacy. It's not. It's a transaction.
You are selling the hours of your life. [music] Hours you will never ever get back to build someone else's castle. If you drop dead today, your job would be posted online before your obituary.
Do not worship at the altar of your career. It will not love you back. It will not hold your hand when the lights go out.
So what matters. If the money is fake and the career is a trap and the stuff is garbage, what is left? I'll tell you.
The only things you get to keep [music] are the things you gave away, the love you gave, the time you gave, the connection. >> [sighs] >> I sit here in this chair and I don't replay my business deals. I replay the Sunday mornings with Eleanor.
I replay the sound of my daughter laughing when she was three. I replay the time I helped a stranger push his car out of a snowbank. That is the only wealth there is.
[clears throat] So, here is my challenge to you. Here is the no BS strategy for the rest of your life. Number one, kill your ego.
You are so terrified of looking foolish. You don't take the risk. You don't start the business.
You don't ask the girl out. [music] Why? Because you are afraid of what they will think.
Let me liberate you. Nobody is watching you. They are too busy worrying about themselves.
You are the main character only in your own head. To everyone else, you are background noise. [music] Stop letting your fear of other people's judgment paralyze you.
Their judgment will rot in the ground right next to them. Number two, practice the last time. This is a stoic technique [music] and it will change your life.
Every time you do something, anything, [music] remind yourself that one day you will do it for the last time. One day you will pick up your child for the last time. One day you will kiss your spouse for the last time.
One day you will drink a cup of coffee for the last time. You don't know when that day is. [music] It could be 10 years from now.
It could be today. If you live with that knowledge, [music] you will never take a moment for granted again. You will taste the coffee.
You will hold the hug a little longer. Number three, wake [music] up. I'm 92.
My back hurts. [music] My eyes are dim. But you, you have the golden ticket.
You have your health. You have your youth. [music] And you are spending it scrolling through a phone.
You are numbing yourself. Stop it. Go outside.
[music] Feel the wind. Look at the sky. Call your mother.
Forgive [music] your enemy, not for them, but because you don't have time to carry the luggage of hate anymore. [music] We are all going to die. It is the only guarantee we have.
But most people most people never actually live. They just exist. They stay safe.
[music] They stay comfortable. And then they expire. Don't be like Jack.
Don't wait for the five-year plan. Eat the good food. Buy the plane ticket.
[music] Say I love you first because the clock is ticking. [music] Can you hear it? That is the sound of your life running out.
Don't let it run out empty. I'm tired now. Go [music] live.
