What Am I Waiting For?

Three profound questions to help you stop delaying your life and start living authentically.

Mar 17, 2026

I’m often scared.

When I’m feeling frightened, I spend valuable time reading and thinking about my investments. I rationalize, telling myself I am just being responsible. I want to make sure my portfolio is positioned properly in a changing world.

I’m lying to myself—pretending this is prudence, when it’s really avoidance.

Why do I do it?

I am scared of economic realities such as our monstrous national debt, and of the deep political divisions that threaten the stability of our country.

Focusing on my investments is like giving myself a pacifier. It comforts me; it doesn’t nourish me.

Why don’t I stop? Because it is an effective way to distract myself from what is really bothering me.

I am reluctant to confront my own mortality. I am 67. The older I get, the faster the clock ticks. I am acutely aware each day is precious. I desperately want to spend my time wisely.

I fear my life is misaligned with my values and priorities. When I’m honest with myself, the problem isn’t that I lack knowledge of what matters most to me. My soul knows.

Implementing that inner wisdom is what’s challenging.

Years ago, thought leader George Kinder offered three questions to help people uncover the life they want. I find they help me tune in to my deepest yearnings.

1. The first question is deceptively simple.

If you had all the money you needed—today and for the rest of your life—how would you live? What would you do? What would you change?

For me, the answer is unsettling. I already have enough. More money would not change my life materially. Which raises a harder question: If money isn’t the constraint, what is?

2. The second question sharpens my focus.

Imagine your doctor tells you that you have five to ten years left to live. You won’t feel sick. You’ll die suddenly one day. Knowing that, how would you live? What would you do differently?

What I would do differently is spend less time preparing for imagined futures that may never arrive.

What I want to do instead is spend more time inhabiting the life I already have. More time deeply appreciating the moments that matter most to me. That means caring for my wife in ways big and small. I want to console my dearest friends in the tough times and celebrate our triumphs together. I want to encourage my children when they falter. I want to sing my favorite songs from Les Misérables or Ed Sheeran, get down on the floor with my grandchildren to play the games they love, deepen my faith through prayer and study.

Some of this may make me feel silly. What will people think? Maybe friends will misunderstand. Talking about my faith sometimes is met by silence or discomfort. Being true to myself is not always easy. But if not now—when?

3. The third question is the one I resist the most.

Imagine your doctor tells you he made a terrible mistake. You will die—peacefully and painlessly—in the next 24 hours. Looking back, what did you not get to do? Who did you not get to be?

This question strips away pretense. What remains is regret, longing, and truth. It reveals the cost of caution. The price of fear. The opportunities quietly passed over while waiting for a better time.

Sitting with these questions gives me more than answers. It gives me clarity. I can no longer pretend that shuffling my investment portfolio will quiet my fears. I cannot default to my comfort zone. I must do what my soul craves if I want to live an authentic life without waiting any longer.

I can’t go back to pretending. I’ll pay the cost.

Until our next conversation,

David

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