We build our careers, our businesses, in order to achieve tangible results. The more ambitious we are, the greater demands we make on ourselves to soar beyond the expected and to rise to the extraordinary. The timeless. The levels of achievement that will result in a semblance of immortality.

The bar is high. Think of joining the Fortune 500, the Forbes 400, the Nobel Prize, CEO, Pulitzer and Oscar. Should we reach these heights, we believe, we will be Forever. So we map our paths to the top.

The only problem is, the entire journey is a charade.

None of us are Forever. The successes we strive for and achieve are good and fine and worth pursuing (it certainly beats sitting there, simply letting life happen to us) but the rewards are only for the here and now.

For a select few, the legend continues after we are on the sidelines. But even for this exalted group – our Founding Fathers, Shakespeare, Socrates, Paley, Rockefeller–there is a beginning and an End.

The rewards we seek and perhaps that we gain for our brains and brawn and sweat and inspiration and drive and determination and resilience, are all ours for the here and now.

Not a second later.

We don’t and cannot– even if we want to– achieve for posterity, for our loved ones, for those who will inherit our companies or succeed us in our professions. We do it (whatever it is we do) for OURSELVES.

Everything else is a myth. A lie.

This should not stop us. But we should understand how crazy the quilt is as we sew it through the years.

All the while, we are Mapping The Road To Oblivion.

Mark Stevens

CEO

Images courtesy: 1, 2, 3.

When I was in my twenties, I used to sleep no more than four hours a night. First because I knew I didn’t need more sleep. Second because I was too excited by life to sleep (still true). And third because I knew life is short– I would have plenty of time to sleep, in time.

Everyone thought I was crazy. I don’t think I heard them.

When it snowed, I would leave the window by my bed wide open. I liked the sensation of the frost. Flakes would accumulate on my bed, creating mini drifts on my blanket.

Everyone thought I was crazy. I don’t think I heard them.

When the sky would turn black and raging electric storms would send bolts of lightning to the ground, I would walk out the door and run through the streets, taking in the light show that flared all around me.

Everyone told me it was dangerous. I don’t think I heard them.

In one period, I decided to sort of reverse engineer life, sleeping during the day and working at night. Just to experience life upside down, inside out. After a week or so, I went back to the “normal” but the experience with the “abnormal” left a permanent mark on the way I see things.

In the world of business, people tell me they have a great company because everyone has worked there for 30 years or more. No one is ever asked to leave. People applaud that. I say it’s a prescription for a third rate company.

People tell me that’s insensitive. I don’t think I hear them.

Out of work, I like to work. My blackberry is with me on hikes, at my pool, in the movies. When an idea strikes me, I turn my attention to developing it. I am passionate about it. To the point that the “off day” becomes an “on day.”

People tell me that means my life lacks balance. I hear them. I tell them I don’t like or want balance.

When I was walking in the electric storms, I think I was daring the elements to strike me. I don’t know why. I didn’t want to do anything but experience the wild exhilaration of the storm.

I wanted to live. Not to simply preserve life, but to stretch the experience to the max. In all we do, we have two basic choices: to sit inside until the storm passes or to take the risks and reap the rewards that come with it.

I would never suggest which path others should take. But I will make a recommendation: if you are fortunate enough to be in the path of a blizzard this winter–whether in business or in personal life– run outside and live in it.

And learn from it.

Mark Stevens

CEO

Images courtesy: 1, 2.