Have you ever conducted a life review? It’s a process by which you reflect on your past, to make better sense of your life. What was the purpose of it all? When did I shine and where did I come up short? Have I accomplished all I set out to do in this lifetime?
Life reviews are a common occurrence among those who’ve had NDEs (near death experiences). But you can be very much alive and conduct a life review. It’s something I’ve done recently, both looking at my personal relationships, and reviewing my many jobs and career.
As you may already know, I worked in advertising for a long time. Forty-two years. And last year, I called it quits for good. While some people apparently have trouble adjusting to “retirement,” that’s not me. My days are full, my career now is now fading into the background. A faraway object in the rear-view mirror of life.
One life review realization: how little my job meant.
I write those words without a hint of bitterness. The advertising business was very good to me. It enabled my family to live in nice homes and go on annual Florida vacations. It kept our fridge stocked with good food and craft beers. It helped us put our daughter through a top-tier college. I was even able to save enough money (fingers crossed) for retirement.
But with a little distance, I now see my job for what it really was: a means to an end. The end was the money that would magically appear in my checking account every other week. The work I created—the several thousand print ads, social media campaigns, TV commercials, etc.? Ultimately, none of it matters. None of it.
What really mattered? It wasn’t the TV commercials I shot in LA, or the record-breaking direct mail campaign. What was truly important was my interactions with my friends and co-workers. Was I kind and compassionate? Did I help others feel better about themselves? Was I a good guy or a jerk?
Two deaths helped shape my perspective.
A couple of memorable points for me were the deaths of two fellow advertising creatives. One a stranger, the other a friend. The first was the death of ad guy Linds Redding in 2012. Let me tell you his story.
Redding was a successful, award-winning creative director, living in New Zealand—who at the age of 52 discovered he had inoperable cancer and only months to live. Linds wrote an often-humorous blog about his job, its challenges, and the many late nights and weekends he spent at work. When he was diagnosed with stage-four cancer, he began to reevaluate his career. His “life review” take:
Was it worth it? Well of course not. It turns out it was just advertising. There was no higher calling. No ultimate prize. Just a lot of faded, yellowing newsprint, and old video cassettes in an obsolete format I can’t play anymore. Oh yes, and a lot of framed certificates and little gold statuettes. A shitload of empty Prozac boxes, wine bottles, a lot of grey hair and a tumor of indeterminate dimensions.
Redding concluded that his chosen career “wasn’t really important” or “of any consequence at all.” He advised anyone who was reading the blog post that mentioned his fate, to “power down, lock up and go home and kiss your wife and kids.” He had a career full of achievements but did not have peace-of-mind. He was dead a few months after writing that story.
The second death happened roughly around the same period. My copywriter cohort and funny friend Larry died. He had far less time than Redding to prepare. Larry was working at the office on a Saturday when he told his art director partner he was going to use the restroom. Only he never returned. He was later found in a bathroom stall, dead of a heart-attack in his late-40s.
These events led me to reflect on my own mortality. If I dropped dead tomorrow, would I look back on my life with pride? Would I wish I’d spent more time with my family? Would I realize I had certain abilities that were never fully realized—because the only writing I had ever done were ads for insurance firms, telecom conglomerates, and pharmaceutical companies?
You know the expression, “do what you love”? Well, for decades my love had been spirituality and a quest to find greater meaning in life. I sensed there was more to the world than what meets the eye, something greater than a job, nice vacation, or big home. I was already gobbling up book after book on philosophy, spirituality and religion. I decided to not just read about these subjects, but to write about them, as well.
Have you found a greater purpose outside of “work”?
For me, it’s writing my weekly column at the faith site Patheos and spirituality-themed books. I know others in my chosen field who have also begun fresh creative pursuits, far removed from advertising. My old workmate and friend Jorge is taking classes and painting. Others, like Mark, Felix, and Jeanne-Marie, became an author, artist, and poet, respectively. But you don’t have to be in advertising to venture down a new avenue of interest.
Whether you work in finance, healthcare or real estate, consider the things you love, outside of your given profession. What gives you passion and lights a spark inside you? Your thing may be gardening or caring for neglected animals or studying the Roman Empire. Follow the lead of NBA legend and author Kareem Abdul-Jabbar who was recently asked in AARP magazine about “reinventing yourself later in life.” His advice:
Pick something you enjoy and don’t worry about being good at it right away. Nobody picks up a paintbrush and expects to create a masterpiece the first time.
A few final thoughts on career and life.
I started this story talking about a life review. There’s just one thing—once you do it, you’ve got to move on. Look back, reflect, and then let the past pass. Because every moment living in the past takes away from what’s in front of you. The here and now. And, at least for me, the present is a pretty good place to be.
My advice, should you need it: Take the time to honestly assess what matters to you. What stirs your soul? What do you daydream about? What connects you with others in a meaningful way? It’s never too late to find a life that’s rich, not in accomplishments, but in meaning, purpose and genuine connection. The future is promised to no one. So, dig deep and uncover what really matters to you.
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