Life is a book. One we sometimes rush through, eager to reach the ending without pausing to savour the story.
Looking back, I realise that much of my life was spent turning pages too quickly, often skipping whole chapters, forever chasing the next goal, the next measure of success.
I was more interested in knowing the end of the story than enjoying the whole story. When I was young, I was told that if I worked hard at my studies, I could earn a place at one of Oxford’s finest schools.
I studied relentlessly, driven by anxiety over passing the exams. I succeeded, but instead of feeling fulfilled, I was told to aim higher. If I worked hard again, I could enter a good university. So I repeated the pattern — study, worry, achieve — and eventually I did.
Then came the next promise: a good career would bring success and happiness. I became a teacher, believing that I was on the right path.
Later, I opened my first school in Cambridge, convinced that if it became the best, I would finally feel accomplished. I worked tirelessly and one of my schools eventually topped a UK academic league table.
I opened another and it too succeeded. Outwardly, I had achieved everything I strived for. Yet, behind the accolades, I was exhausted.
Running two schools, constantly chasing those glittering prizes, the fool’s gold, and measuring my worth by external recognition left me drained. The stress became unbearable and eventually I sold my school.
But the drive to achieve didn’t disappear. I turned to property development, determined to become a multimillionaire. Then another business followed. And another.
People admired me. They called me successful. But somewhere along the way, I began to see the illusion. I had been living for the destination, not the journey. I had been reading the book of my life without ever truly absorbing its pages.
Now I understand that life’s meaning isn’t found in the next achievement or the next milestone. It’s found in the quiet moments we so often overlook.
The birds sing, the rivers flow, the sea speaks and moves with its waves, and the trees stand tall, not for a purpose but simply because they are.
Nature does not strive, it exists. I am not suggesting that we abandon ambition or stop creating. Wisdom lies in balance. In learning to enjoy each moment without being consumed by what lies ahead.
We should not take ourselves, or life, so seriously that we forget to live it. If I could turn back the pages, I would read them slowly. I would linger on each word, each moment, each experience.
I would stop to listen to the birds, to the waves of the sea. Because the true richness of living is not in reaching the end of the book, it’s in cherishing every page along the way.
Now I am old I write books and occasional articles simply because I enjoy it not to achieve success. I read books slowly now, taking time to savour every page.
I have a small boat and I find peace in being alone with Nature. I go fishing with no expectation of catching a fish.
Sometimes I stop to listen to a bird singing or to admire the quiet beauty of a tree. When I head out to sea and look back at the houses on the shore, they seem like the prison I once built for myself, always striving for a bigger house or a more expensive car.
My great regret is that I didn’t learn to take myself and life a little less seriously when I was young.
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