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As I crossed over the Pacific a couple of days ago, my writing took me to an interesting place that I’d like to share with you today. I’d love to hear your thoughts at the bottom, and as always, thank you for reading, sharing, and allowing me to offer you some words. I hope you find them beneficial.
Let me ask you one question:
Where’s your home? I don’t mean your physical address… I mean something much deeper.
Well, to answer that question, you have to define a home.
If “a home” is where you feel most loved, then it’s obviously your home with your family.
If “a home” is where you feel most needed, then again, it’s probably with your family.
There’s no doubt that my “home” is in NYC with my family. It’s where I feel the safest – and the most loved, and most needed. But I’m talking about something else, as well…
If “a home” is also where you feel like you can be the best person you can be, which can translate throughout your life… Well, you might relate to this – because it might be the first time that your definition of a “home” will be truly understood.
I can tell you that for me, my “home,” based on the parameters in the above paragraph, (i.e., being the best person you can be), is not my apartment – it isn’t where I live – It’s not where my amazing wife and incredible daughter reside. Rather, it’s where I can BECOME the best person I can be – Where I can MOLD myself into what I need to be.
To get to that place where I can become my best, my answer becomes simple.
My home is an airplane.
Yup. It’s an airplane. It’s a winged beast, a mechanical method of flight, designed to transport us from one part of the earth to another in relative comfort. And for a lucky few, it’s a place we call home.
Now – Before you pull out your pitchforks and fire and come after me in the name of the seven Gods, let me explain.
I’m not sitting here like Ryan Bingham, saying that I’m unable to have a “home” with a family, that I’m unable to love, that I’m unable to be with anyone buy myself. Quite the opposite, in fact, so don’t go crazy on me before you finish reading.
When I walk through the door of my apartment and hear my daughter cry “DADDYYY,” there is no question in my mind that I’m home.
When I put my suitcase down, and my understanding wife walks up to me and gives me a hug to welcome me back from far away, there is no question in my mind that I am home.
But here’s the differential:
When I’m home with my family, and I’m the best person I can be? When I’m the one who sits with my daughter and teaches her the difference between the blue cup and the red cup, and why they’re different sizes? When I’m the one who tells a horrible joke that pulls my wife out of her bad day at work and into a laughing fit of happiness?
That person in me EXISTS in large part, because at some recent point, I was on an airplane.
Some people fly on airplanes to get away from their lives – I fly on an airplane to bring me back to mine. I fly on an airplane to be the best person I can be for those who count on me – My wife – my daughter – my parents, my friends, my clients, everyone.
I fly on an airplane because it’s how I deal with my ADHD, and it’s the one place where I can take my brain from 5,000,000 RPM back down to a more manageable idle. Locked in a seat with nothing in front of me, nothing to distract me, nothing to set off my “ooh! Shiny!” DNA, I have nothing to do but be at one with my thoughts.
And I’m one of the lucky ones in this world who can turn their thoughts into words, and their words into paragraphs, and their paragraphs into content.
And content, my friends, has made me quite a nice living.
I’m writing this post on UA79 from EWR to Tokyo. My shoes are off, I’m in my “Ask me about my ADD” t-shirt, and this this is my third blog post in as many hours, and I’ve got another ten before I land in at Narita. It’s Monday afternoon right now – I land on Tuesday, give a speech on Wednesday, and come home on Thursday. I’ll have been gone for two and a half days, but in that time, I’ve had 28 hours on a plane to be “home.” I’ve had 28 hours to write, to create, to come up with new ideas, to process new ways of thinking, to become a better person.
And when I land back in NYC on Thursday night, I’ll be better for the journey I’ve just taken. I’ll come home not only with physical gifts for my wife and daughter, but with knowledge of who I am, with experiences from my journey, with new ideas for new books, with new ideas for new revenue streams, with new ways of building myself, my brand, and all that which I get paid to share.
In other words – My time on a plane makes me a better person for those in my life who matter the most when I’m not on a plane. (Tweet this!)
Sitting in my seat writing right now, with no distractions, no Internet, no mobile phone – This is where I do my best work – This is where I’ve written my books, (one of which is a bestseller, by the way,) this is where I come up with what’s next – Heck, a flight from NYC to California is where I came up with HARO – Go through my blog – The first post where I talk about HARO was written from a hotel.
Knowing what you need to do to make you the best person you can be and not doing it is a CRIME. (Tweet this!)
So for those who might be afraid to call home something different than what we would all expect, I encourage you to stand up and do it – and to understand that having the knowledge of what makes you a better person is something not a lot of us are fortunate enough to have – And if you do have that knowledge, don’t give it up – Find a way to make it part of you – Because then, and only then, will you truly become the person you want to be – for your wife or husband, for your daughter or son, for your girlfriend or boyfriend, and yes, MOST importantly, for yourself.
So after reading what I just wrote, I ask you once again, perhaps to a different answer…
Where’s your home?
As always, comments welcome and truly appreciated.