When I turned 50 last November, Jo went all out with a surprise party at the Silos. The whole night knocked me off my feet. I was surrounded by family and friends. Everyone was telling stories. Some I’d completely forgotten, others more embarrassing than I remember. In true Jo fashion, no detail was spared. Everywhere you looked, the years that got me here were on full display.
There was this one spot in particular. From afar, it looked like a giant wall filled with cowboy boots. You got closer and, sure enough, that’s exactly what it was. Except these boots were dirty. Caked in mud, seams busted through. Then, it dawned on me: These boots were mine. I’ve been wearing the same ones—Ariat Heritage Roper Western—going on 25-plus years, and once a pair is beyond wearing, I’ve kept them, tucked away on the highest shelf in my closet. Sounds a bit odd now that I think about it, but let’s not get distracted by that small detail. The point is that Jo had pulled down all eight pairs of these old boots, and for one night only, she’d put them on display, perched side by side around this big ole neon sign that said, “Blame it all on my boots.”
It might sound unbelievable that I’ve been buying and wearing the same brand and style of boots since college. But it doesn’t end there. I’ve also worn the same jeans, white T-shirts, and tube socks for just as long. Ease is certainly a factor. As far back as I can remember I’ve woken up before the sun. Knowing what I’m looking for and where to reach saves me a few minutes of searching in the dark. Comfort, too, I guess is part of it. I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a creature of habit, but in this one particular area I’ve gotta say I’m pretty set in my ways. Call it lazy or simple-minded, but having one less decision to make frees my mind to cash in those thoughts elsewhere.
I’m not the first to have this idea. I’ve read that some of humanity’s brightest minds purposely wore the same thing every day in an effort to conserve their brainpower. I guess they figured that in order to focus their emotional energy on life’s bigger calling (small things like revolutionizing physics, redefining the tech industry, and running the free world) they had to get ruthless about eliminating trivial concerns from their day-to-day. Concerns that, even by accident, can end up absorbing meaningful amounts of our life. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that emotional energy, like time, has never been infinite.
I’ve been aware of natural limitations since I was a kid. I realized early on that I wasn’t, and probably never would be, the smartest guy in the class. I wasn’t sitting on some sweet inheritance, and I sure as heck wasn’t winning any awards. So I didn’t double down in those areas.
I didn’t waste my time wishing it were different, either. Instead, I set my sights elsewhere, on the things I was feeling drawn toward, things I was beginning to value more. Ideas around entrepreneurship were stirring my heart far more than smarts and looks, so that’s where I planted my feet. Then came my family and our business, and that’s where I dug in my heels. Once I knew my nonnegotiables, everything else had to get less of me. Including—as simple as it sounds—the clothes I wear.
“Every pair of boots up there had walked me to—and through—some new and unexpected experience of a lifetime.”
Decades later, this boot wall was living proof. As we stood before it, Jo whispered to me, “What a journey your life has taken you on. Every adventure you’ve lived is displayed up there.” I thought about it, and she was right. As I looked up, I could see scenes from the past 25 years take shape right before my eyes.
Every pair of boots up there had walked me to—and through—some new and unexpected experience of a lifetime. Plenty of beautiful things. New cities, new houses, new dreams. A few of them had walked me home with a new baby in my arms. But those boots had been the ground beneath my feet through the valleys too. Kept me steady when life was throwing me one curveball after another.
It was a wild thing to stand there and feel overwhelmed with gratitude for a bunch of old boots. But I was. They’d seen me through it all. And the part that struck me the most? They’d been predictable so I didn’t have to be.
I guess it’s like this: That single, consistent choice gave me the capacity to run toward risk and cash in my energy to think outside the box. That one stroke of steady was like permission to chase any wild hair that caught fire in me. Sure, my daily “uniform” may never get the best of my creativity. But my family will. Our business will. Loosening my grip on matters that mean little to my real passion and purpose has freed me to dive deeper into the things that tug at my core. We hear it all the time from one another: “I just don’t have the time...” or “I have no energy left to give....” We are a busy and worn-out society. Limitations aren’t make-believe. And yet, time still marches on. Our world continues to spin. We’ve got to figure out how to hold our most precious resources like our life depends on it. ’Cause it kind of does.
I know you’ve got people and dreams that you wish you had more to give to—more energy, more time. Maybe your wish is for something altogether immeasurable, like more compassion or joy or love. Whatever it is you feel you’re lacking, look around. What in your life could you quiet or even cut completely for a shot at having the presence of mind to pour into this more important thing?
Maybe for you it’s not going to be the time you spend deciding what to wear. But it could be time wasted on comparison. Or scrolling online. Maybe it’s worrying about things that are out of your control. Tell me, is it even possible to imagine feeling limitless when it comes to the thing you love? Go there in your mind. If you can, take note of where you are, what you’re doing, and who is there with you. That is where your heart is. That is what’s worth sacrificing for. Don’t surrender it for any lesser thing. If putting up one boundary could open the door to boundless opportunity, well then, what are we all waiting for?
