24/06/2026
I did something uncomfortable this week. I wrote my own eulogy.
Not the one my mates would say to be kind. The one I'd honestly say about myself, looking back, about whether I became the man I wanted to be.
The exercise comes from a business book called The E-Myth Revisited. But I flipped it. Instead of imagining what others say about you at your funeral, I imagined standing up and delivering it myself. In my own voice. About the life I built.
Here's what I want to be able to say:
He was scared, a lot, and he did it anyway. He had a brain that lied to him for years, told him he was a mess, and he learned to stop believing it. He stopped performing and started being honest, and it cost him nothing he actually needed. He loved a woman who saved him, and he was good to her, every day, not just when it was easy.
And here's the thing. The man who could honestly say all that at the end, he's future me. He already exists, in the sense that I can see him clearly. The only question is whether me-now keeps casting votes for him, or against him.
That's not a morbid exercise. That's the clearest map I've ever drawn.
I'm not at the top of the mountain shouting down at you. I never have been. I'm halfway up, out of breath, looking at the next steep bit going "fu***ng hell, that looks hard."
But I can see him. And he's me. Just further up. Waiting.
I talked about this properly on a podcast episode, the science behind it, the tools, and why I stopped pretending this was a marketing exercise.
Would you be willing to write your own eulogy? Not what others would say, what YOU would honestly say about your life? It's uncomfortable as hell. But it's the clearest thing I've ever done.
