A couple weeks ago I was sitting alone in a cigar lounge in Puerto Rico when something hit me. I honestly could not tell you what happened over the last six months.
Not because nothing happened. A lot happened. I grew the brand, I studied more than I ever have in my life, I built things I'm proud of. But when I try to actually remember it, it's one long blur. Six months, gone, and it felt like six weeks.
Here's why that happens. Your brain doesn't record time, it records CHANGE. When you're a kid, everything is new, so one summer feels like a year. When you're grown and locked into a routine — same schedule, same faces, same grind, you get the point — your brain basically stops taking notes. There's nothing new to write down. So whole months just compress into nothing.
That was me. Every day identical. Locked in, heads down, zero novelty. And I was telling myself the blur was a good sign, like it meant I was working hard.
Then I took a solo trip to Puerto Rico to reset. Slow season, half the town closed, nothing to do. The first two days I felt guilty for not being productive. Old me needed every day to produce something. But by day three I caught myself thinking, it is SO crazy how much slower time is moving. The days felt long again. Long days are what being present actually feels like, and I'd forgotten.
So here's the check. Think about your last month. If it blurred by, that's not proof you're winning. It might just mean every day was the same day, thirty times.
You don't need to quit your job or fly somewhere. You need one thing in your week with an unknown outcome. A conversation you're not sure how it'll go. A place you've never been. Something on the line. That's what makes your brain hit record again.
— Noah Danenhower
P.S. Reply and tell me the last time a day felt LONG to you. I'm genuinely curious how far back some of you have to go.