I have made more friends than I’ve lost in my lifetime.
I have made more good decisions than bad ones.
Both of those statements are true. But they don’t mean I haven’t lost friends. And they certainly don’t mean I haven’t made some bad decisions.
I think that’s part of the challenge of trying to maintain a positive mindset. The world gets in the way.
Life gets busy. Work gets complicated. Families need our attention. Relationships change. We make mistakes. Things happen to us that we didn’t ask for and sometimes don’t deserve.
Yet strangely enough, those same things: life, work, family and relationships, are also where we find most of our happiness, joy, contentment and, hopefully, some peace.
I read something a while back about the mindset of great professional athletes. Obviously, talent matters. Work ethic matters. But one of the things that separates the very best is what they choose to remember.
Great golfers remember the pure shot, not every shot they hit into the trees. Great wide receivers remember the incredible catch, not every dropped ball. Great tennis players remember the serve they hit exactly where they wanted it. Great hitters remember the home runs even though every one of them has struck out plenty of times.
Maybe there is something to that.
I was fortunate enough to play soccer growing up and eventually in college. There is one particular game I can still picture.
It was homecoming. It was raining, and the field was a muddy mess. At the time, our field was right on the quad in the middle of campus, with the library at one end and dorms on the other. There weren’t really stands. People just surrounded the field, and for homecoming they were standing two or three deep.
The game was 0-0. The conditions made it difficult for either team to create much offense.
Late in the game, one of our players was taken down just outside the box. We had a free kick from probably 20 or 25 yards out.
I was taking most of our free kicks at the time. When I looked over at Coach, it was obvious what our plan was: smash this ball on frame. On a day like that, there really wasn’t much more strategy to it. Make the goalkeeper make a save.
I remember thinking mostly about my plant foot. I wanted to hit the ball hard, but the field was so wet that I didn't want my foot slipping out from underneath me.
I struck it low.
One of the defenders in the wall jumped, and the ball slipped underneath him. The goalkeeper pushed off to his right, but his foot slipped in the mud. He managed to stick an arm out as he fell forward, but the ball went past him and into the net.
My arms went up. My teammates came running. The crowd erupted.
We won 1-nil.
I took dozens and dozens of free kicks in high school and college. I probably missed ten times as many as I scored.
But that’s the one I remember.
There’s a scene in the 2012 movie Wrath of the Titans that I had almost forgotten about until I started thinking about this. Perseus has been living as a fisherman with his young son, Helius, but eventually finds himself fighting alongside the gods and another demigod named Agenor, the son of Poseidon.
Near the end of the movie, Helius meets Agenor. The boy looks at him and says, “I’ve read that you are a great disappointment.”
Agenor doesn't miss a beat.
“That’s right. I am great.”
I remember laughing when I first saw it. Maybe it was the delivery or the way the characters had been portrayed, but it was funny.
Thinking about it now, though, there’s actually something pretty good buried in that little exchange.
Agenor heard the whole sentence. He just chose which part of it he wanted to carry forward.
I am great.
Maybe mindset is sometimes that simple. Not pretending the other words weren't said. Not pretending the disappointments didn't happen. Just deciding which part of the sentence deserves our attention.
Years later, when I was a young financial advisor, something similar happened.
I had experienced some early success, largely because of great mentorship, a lot of hard work and, I believe, the grace of God. A relatively local agricultural business was shopping its 401(k) plan, and somehow, I got an opportunity to compete for it.
When I reviewed the opportunity with my mentor, he was encouraging but realistic.
“Mark, this is great practice for you.”
There were experienced advisors competing for the business. He told me he would be surprised if they picked me.
Maybe one thing working in my favor was that I didn't have nearly as much going on as everyone else. I had plenty of time to focus on it.
After a lot of meetings and back-and-forth, they chose me.
At the time, it was the biggest case I had ever won. Financially, it made my quarter. More importantly, it gave a young advisor confidence that maybe I could actually build a career doing this.
I remember winning that case vividly.
Of course, there were plenty of other opportunities I didn't win. I asked for meetings I didn't get. I competed for business that went somewhere else. Especially early in my career, I lost a lot more than I won.
But those aren't the moments that define that period of my life for me.
I remember the one that went in.
I've been fortunate to meet people from many different walks of life, different professions, different parts of the country, and different parts of the world. One thing I've come to believe is that our circumstances aren't the only things determining whether we find happiness or peace.
Our mindset matters.
The people who seem most content aren't people who have never lost, failed, been disappointed or made bad decisions. They are often people who have learned which experiences deserve the most space in their minds.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm chasing at this point in my life. Maybe it's peace. Maybe joy. Maybe contentment. I know part of it is impact, the hope that I can help other people and continue reminding myself that the helping should be about them, not me.
None of it is perfect.
I've made more friends than I've lost. But I've lost some.
I've made more good decisions than bad ones. But I've made some bad ones.
I've won some important opportunities. I've lost plenty, too.
Maybe the goal isn't to pretend the misses never happened. We learn from them. Sometimes they change us.
But we don't have to give every miss the same space in our memory.
Maybe we get to choose which part of the sentence we carry forward.
And sometimes, it's okay to remember the one that went in.