The Next Chapter: Slowing Down & Showing Up
In my 20s, I felt like I had all the time in the world to figure things out. I bounced around, trying my hand at all sorts of jobs—forklift driver, waiter, car salesman. It didn’t matter much where I landed because I knew I could always return to painting. That was my safety net, the thing I could fall back on when everything else fell apart. I experimented with a lot of things, both personally and professionally. I don’t think there are many stones I left unturned in those years. The good, the bad, and everything in between shaped me, and I came out the other side with a better sense of what I wanted in life. The 20s were all about exploration, about discovering the boundaries of who I was and what I could handle. I made mistakes, learned a lot, and laid the groundwork for what was to come.
Then the 30s hit, and everything shifted. I was done experimenting—I was ready to build something real. I found stability in a corporate job and stuck with it, even when the shifts flipped from early mornings to late nights. I took on the responsibility of raising my little brother, remodeling my first home, and, somewhere in between all of that, I threw myself into music production. What started as a side hobby became an obsession. In six years, I cranked out 12 albums, believing I was on the path to turning those tracks into a lasting source of income. The grind was real, but I wasn’t afraid of it.
My 30s were my decade of hustle. I worked hard—stayed at the same job for ten years, invested heavily in my 401k, and managed to bring in some royalties from the music I’d put out there. It was the busiest, most productive decade of my life. I got married, had kids, bought a bigger house on some land, even built the dream shop I’d always wanted. Everything I was working toward seemed to come together, and the sense of accomplishment was huge. My 30s were about laying a foundation that I could stand on for the rest of my life.
But now, in my 40s, it feels different. Instead of racing to the next goal, I feel like I’m swimming against a current when I try to keep up with that same pace. It’s taken me some time to realize it, but that’s because this decade isn’t about chasing anymore. It’s about slowing down, letting go of that constant drive, and finally enjoying the life I’ve built.
I’ve chased down a lot of dreams in my time. Some panned out, some didn’t, but I think the time has come to stop running after what’s next. The stability I spent my 30s working so hard for is finally here, and it’s given me the chance to shift my focus. My 40s are calling me to take my foot off the gas, roll the windows down, and feel the breeze for once. It’s time to smell the roses, to go on vacations where I’m not distracted by what I want to accomplish next.
At 41, I’m just starting to understand this new season of life. It feels like my calling now is to invest my energy into the people around me—my wife, my kids, my family. It’s about being present and involved, helping to shape their futures. And that’s not something I can do if I’m off chasing another accomplishment. I have enough. I’ve done enough. Now is the time to be still, to listen more, and to be more intentional with the time I have.
I’m ready to take on this next decade with grace, patience, and selflessness. I’ve put in the work, and now it’s about reaping the rewards—watching my family grow, being there for them, and, ultimately, seeing the "family royalties" I’ve invested in come back to me in the years ahead. There’s a lot I don’t know yet about what my 40s will bring, but I’m going to make sure I’m open to whatever lessons this chapter has in store for me. Here’s to slowing down, to being more present, and to living with purpose in this new phase of life.
