I like possibilities. I like the multiverse, the potential futures that could be. When I try on a shirt or a pair of sneakers, I get to be a different person for a few minutes in that fitting room. And I get to decide if I want to be that person for longer than a few minutes. I don’t wear Hawaiian shirts because I don’t think they suit me, but I try them on every now and again to see if I’ve become the kind of person who could wear Hawaiian shirts. (Currently? No.) I like how Jordan 3’s look, but not on me. (I’m a Jordan 1 guy.) But I still try them on occasionally because I like thinking I could one day be the kind of person who looks good in Jordan 3’s.

This mindset extends further than clothing and physical appearance. I like thinking about who I am and who else I could be in a year, or a month, or a week, or tomorrow, or today. Am I the kind of person who starts businesses? I wasn’t, until I was. Am I the kind of person who can run a marathon? I’m not today, but maybe I could be in 6 months. I like trying on new versions of myself to see if they fit me. Our industry generally looks down on the idea of imposter syndrome, but I think it also has its advantages.

Lately, I’ve been trying on an uncomfortable idea. I’ve always been an ambitious person, constantly striving to reach new achievements. A new thought occurred to me: what if I actually have already achieved everything I’m going to achieve in my life? Though jarring, it’s plausible: my wife and kids give me a full and fulfilling life, I’ve experienced more business and career success than I had ever dreamed, and I’ve been able to impact the lives of many others through teaching, writing, speaking, and working. I know it’s important to not take the exercise to morbid trains of thought like “I have nothing left to live for” or anything like that. I already know what it’s like to live like someone who wants more; what does it feel like to live like someone where everything new is a bonus, not a desire and certainly not a need? How would that person act, operate, and live? And how different is that person from who I am today?

Though uneasy, I’m trying it on.

I’ll report back on how it goes.

Who can you try on? And what doors does even the thought exercise open for you? Remember: like an ill-fitting jacket or a sweater can makes your skin look a weird color, you can always take it off if you decide it’s not you.

But can it be?