At 24, after a lot of hustle, the money was in the bank and I bought myself an extraordinary, definitely non-garden variety, wide-body, low to the ground, all black, seriously never before seen in Minnesota  911 Porsche.

It was the Porsche of all Porsches.

At 24½, very shortly after I first drove that car home, the feeling of importance I had faded. I was only in my mid-twenties, but

the lesson of how brief and fleeting the happiness was that accompanied material goods and status was taught.

The more you pursued, or obtained, the more deftly happiness evaded. Once you had one thing, there was always the next.

This is one of my favorite questions for people we interview at Life Time. It’s not a trick question, nor is there a correct way to respond.  I’m always curious to see if people have identified what they could consider a passion, if they know from where they derive the greatest satisfaction. 

Through my experience, I’ve arrived at the belief  true joy exists when two things converge; when what we are passionate about is also what we’re really good at.

How do you know?  What are we here for?

“What will make me happy?” is one of the first questions I can recall asking myself.

Barely an adult, I was extremely busy. My mind was filled with logistical details and specs about locations, buildings, and the endless minutia of a start-up.

While there didn’t seem like there should be room for anything else in my brain, my thoughts kept returning to fundamental questions about God …  the basic mystery of why we are here.

There was no explanation for my fixation, besides my basic nature to ask “why” about everything that’s accompanied me since childhood.

I knew ultimately that I needed to contribute something of value to the world, and how rapidly I’d found some success provided me with an inherent need to think about where life was going. 

As an engineer and person of science, I understood the arguments that say our existence is simply the result of a random combination of molecules and proteins. My left brain accepted the rational point of view that says there is no overall grand design or purpose. As a natural phenomenon, we just are.

Yet, a more traditional background offered a counter argument to this pure rationality with the concept of spirituality and a higher power that created lives with divine purpose. 

These two viewpoints seemed to suggest two different paths. The first would allow you to stop worrying about finding a higher purpose and just enjoy yourself. You were … off the hook.  The second required you to  devote your life to seeking enlightenment while helping move humanity closer to understanding why we are here.

I tried to assess risk and reward and  envisioned where those two paths might end up. The first path said just enjoy yourself and hope you don’t wake up in 30 years and find it was a mistake. Would it lead to a midlife crisis where you hit a point where your life had been wasted on meaningless pursuits?  

Or the second path, that probably required a great deal of sacrifice; forget about enjoying yourself and devote yourself to seeking the aforementioned enlightenment with probably service to some often-angry deity. Would you wake up one day, thinking you’d wasted your time pursuing an illusion? Sacrificing all for nothing?

I tried to use a mathematical approach to a philosophical dilemma – like an engineer.

What I realized was that I needed to live my life in a way that satisfied either condition.

I needed answers that would be true for me in either case, no matter which of the original inputs turned out to be true, science or faith. 

So many questions can be answered by the simple lesson of balance; life’s natural ebb and flow. Why should this question be any different? 

Couldn’t I enjoy myself, and take in all of this world’s pleasures, while also contributing to the world in whatever small way? Living my life in a way that satisfied both conditions, honoring both science and faith?