Hey there, it’s good to sit with you again. I’ve been thinking about something lately, something that feels like it’s worth sharing over a quiet evening like this. You ever wonder why some folks seem to climb to incredible heights in life, while others—maybe even us sometimes—feel stuck, like we’re just spinning our wheels? I’ve been turning this over in my mind, and I want to tell you a story I heard once, a story that’s stuck with me. It’s not about answers so much as it’s about seeing things a little clearer, you know? So, grab a seat, maybe a warm drink, and let’s talk.
A long time ago, there was a young disciple sitting at the feet of his teacher, an old master with eyes that seemed to hold a lifetime of quiet knowing. The disciple had this question burning in him, the kind that keeps you up at night. “Master,” he said, his voice a little shaky, “we’ve all got two hands, two legs, one mind, and the same 24 hours in a day. So why do some people touch the sky with success, while so many stay trapped in struggle, poor and lost, their whole lives?” I can almost feel that question in my chest, can’t you? I’ve asked it myself on long drives home after a tough day.
The master just smiled, a small, warm smile, like he’d heard this a thousand times but still cared enough to answer. “It’s about habits, my child,” he said softly. “Habits build a life—brick by brick, day by day. The ones who rise, they let go of habits that weigh them down early on. And the ones who struggle? They cling to those same habits, often without even seeing it.” The disciple leaned in, hungry for more, and I can imagine myself right there with him, wanting to know—what are these habits? What’s holding us back?
The master’s voice grew steady, serious, as he began to lay it out. He spoke of nine habits—nine things the most successful, the truly rich in spirit and life, leave behind. And as I think back on his words, I want to walk through a few of them with you, not as rules or a lecture, but as moments I’ve seen play out in my own life, or in the lives of people I’ve known.
First, he talked about listening—really listening. He said the ones who make it in life don’t interrupt when someone’s speaking. They don’t just wait for their turn to talk. They sit with you, they hear you, trying to understand not just your words but where you’re coming from, what’s behind them. I remember a friend of mine, someone who’s built an incredible career, and I noticed this about her—she never cuts in. Even when I’m rambling, she just nods, her eyes steady on mine, and I feel… seen. It’s powerful. But I’ve also been the other guy, the one who interrupts, who’s so eager to get my point out that I miss what’s being said. And you know what? Sometimes, I’ve lost out on something important because of it—maybe a piece of advice, or just a moment of connection. Have you ever felt that? Like you spoke over something that mattered?
Then the master moved to something heavier—blaming others. He said unsuccessful folks often point fingers. “I could’ve been something, but my luck was bad,” or “My family didn’t support me.” It’s a trap I’ve fallen into myself. After a failed project a few years back, I spent weeks telling myself it was everyone else’s fault—the team, the timing, the world. But deep down, I knew I hadn’t done enough. It was easier to blame than to face that. The master said the ones who succeed, they own their mistakes. They look at them, learn, and keep walking. It’s hard, isn’t it? But there’s a kind of freedom in saying, “This was on me, and I’ll do better.”
He also spoke about how we talk to ourselves. This one hit me hard. He said successful people don’t drag themselves down with negative words. No “I can’t do this,” or “I’m not good enough.” I’ve caught myself in those loops, late at night, staring at the ceiling, telling myself I’m a mess-up. It’s like quicksand—the more you say it, the deeper you sink. The master’s advice was simple: when those thoughts creep in, do something. Read, move your body, breathe, call someone who lifts you up. I’ve started trying this—putting on a podcast or just stepping outside for a walk when my head gets loud. It doesn’t fix everything, but it shifts something. What do you do when those voices start whispering?
Another thing he mentioned was purpose—having a goal, a reason to get up. He said without it, your days just drift, filled with small, empty things. I think of my uncle, who always knew he wanted to open his own little shop. Every morning, he was up before dawn, working toward it. And now? He’s got it. Not because he’s smarter or luckier, but because he had that north star. I’m still figuring out mine, to be honest. Some days I wonder if I even have one. Do you ever feel that way? Like you’re moving, but not sure where to?
The master went on—about respecting others, no matter who they are. About not procrastinating, not putting off today’s work for a tomorrow that never feels right. About taking responsibility instead of dodging it. About not wasting energy on gossip or pointless arguments. And finally, about staying clear of things that numb you—drinks, smokes, anything that promises peace but just steals your focus. Each time he spoke, I could see it in my own life, the little choices that add up. Like how I’ve delayed a tough conversation for weeks, only to feel the weight grow heavier. Or how I’ve wasted hours arguing over something small, when I could’ve used that energy to create.
When the master finished, he just looked at his disciple, silent, letting the words settle. And the young man bowed, understanding that it wasn’t about being told what to do—it was about seeing himself clearer. I feel that now, sitting here with you. I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out. Far from it. But I think about these habits, these ways we shape our days, and I wonder which ones I’m still holding onto that I need to let go. Maybe you’re wondering too.
So, let’s just sit with that for a moment. No rush to fix anything, no pressure to change overnight. Just a quiet thought between us—what’s one habit you’ve noticed in yourself that might be holding you back? Or one you’ve seen in someone who’s made it, that you’d like to try? I’m asking myself the same thing as I sip my coffee here, watching the evening settle in. Life’s a slow build, isn’t it? Brick by brick, habit by habit. I’m glad we’re figuring it out together. Until next time, take care of yourself, alright? I’ll be here.