What Will You Do With Your Turn?

At this time of year, as we remember Sept. 11, 2001, I inevitably find myself thinking about time. I think about the people who went to work that morning expecting it to be an ordinary Tuesday. I think about families who said goodbye assuming they would see each other that evening. And I am reminded of something we all know intellectually but too often forget in the way we live our lives: None of us knows how much time we have. 

Sept. 11 should never be reduced to a metaphor or a business lesson. It was a horrific day that took nearly 3,000 lives and changed countless others forever. 

But remembrance can also cause us to reflect. It can remind us of the fragility of life, the importance of the people around us, and the extraordinary privilege represented by every ordinary day we are given.

I begin many of my keynote speeches by trying to put our lives into perspective. Scientists estimate that the Earth is approximately 4.5 billion years old. Modern humans have existed for only a tiny fraction of that time. Recorded civilization occupies an even smaller fraction. And then there is each of us. If we are fortunate, we might get 80, 90 or perhaps 100 years. Against the history of the Earth, a human lifetime is almost mathematically insignificant. It is a flash. A blink. We arrive, we get our turn, and then someone else gets theirs.

That perspective could make our lives seem insignificant. I believe it should make them feel incredibly important.

Because this is our turn.

We have this remarkably brief window of time to do something with the opportunity we have been given. We get a chance to build something. To create something. To love people. To help people. To raise families. To develop friendships. To pursue excellence. To teach. To learn. To mentor. To contribute. To leave something behind that did not exist before we got here. 

The question isn’t whether our turn will end. We know that it will. The question is what we are going to do with it while we have it.

Too many people live as though there will always be more time. Someday I’ll start the business. Someday I’ll write the book. Someday I’ll call that person. Someday I’ll repair that relationship. Someday I’ll get into shape. Someday I’ll take the trip. Someday I’ll tell the people I love how much they mean to me. Someday I’ll pursue the thing I have always wanted to pursue. 

We treat time as though it were an unlimited resource when, in reality, it may be the most precious and finite resource we possess.

In business, we spend enormous amounts of energy measuring things. Revenue. Profit. Market share. Transactions. Square footage. Sales volume. Productivity. Returns. I believe in measurement. I believe in goals. I believe deeply in achievement. 

But, as I have gotten older, I have increasingly realized that the ultimate scorecard is much broader. Did you maximize your potential? Did you use your talents? Did you help other people maximize theirs? Did you conduct yourself with character? Did you make the people around you better? Did you create memories with the people you love? Did you have a positive impact? Did you actually enjoy the journey while relentlessly pursuing the destination?

I have been in the commercial real estate business for more than four decades. I still love what I do. I still wake up excited about opportunities, transactions, clients, buildings and the marketplace. I still want to accomplish more tomorrow than I accomplished yesterday. But ambition and perspective are not opposites. In fact, I think perspective should make us more ambitious — not simply about making money or achieving professional success, but about making the most of every dimension of our lives.

There is a wonderful tension in recognizing how short life is. It should create urgency, but not anxiety. It should make us work harder, but also make us more willing to stop working when someone we love needs us. It should make us pursue excellence while being quicker to forgive. It should make us more competitive about becoming our best selves and less interested in comparing ourselves with everyone else. It should make us say yes to opportunities that frighten us and no to things that waste the limited time we have. And, perhaps most importantly, it should make us more intentional.

I don’t believe making the most of our turn requires changing the world. Most of us won’t. It means changing the small piece of the world we have been entrusted with. Your family. Your company. Your colleagues. Your clients. Your community. The young person you mentor. The stranger you treat with kindness. The people who will someday say that knowing you made a difference in their lives. 

Legacy isn’t just what people remember after we are gone. Legacy is what we put into other people while we are here.

Sept. 11 reminds us, painfully, that tomorrow is never guaranteed. But today is here. This moment is ours. This opportunity is ours. In the vast sweep of history, we have been given an almost impossibly small amount of time.

This is our turn. Let’s make it count.

Robert Knakal is founder, chairman and CEO of BK Real Estate Advisors.