This post originally appeared in my weekly newsletter, BL&T (Borrowed, Learned, & Thought). Subscribe
“Nonessentialists tend to be so preoccupied with past successes and failures, as well as future challenges and opportunities, that they miss the present moment. They become distracted. Unfocused. They aren’t really there. The way of the Essentialist is to tune into the present. To experience life in kairos, not just chronos. To focus on the things that are truly important—not yesterday or tomorrow, but right now.”
From Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less by Greg McKeown [Book]
This past Friday, we had planned to be on the road to visit Dana’s parents and take my 16-month old son Mylo to see Christmas lights and enjoy some nearby holiday festivities.
Instead, we were en route from urgent care to the ER with him.
What started as a mild cold on Thursday escalated quickly. By Friday, Mylo was having trouble breathing. A bad case of bronchiolitis had overwhelmed his little body, and he couldn’t fight it off on his own.
After two nights in the ICU and all kinds of interventions, we were finally able to bring him home on Sunday. Seeing Mylo wave “buh bye” and blow kisses to the nurses—after hours without eating or drinking and enduring a CPAP mask, IVs, and endless prodding—was a huge relief. After so much uncertainty, it's hard to describe how good it felt to see him smiling and back to himself.
Throughout the weekend, one thought kept running through my mind: how everything can change in a moment. And when it does, it has a way of putting life in perspective, forcing you to focus on what matters most.
I remember a similar feeling many years ago. Early in my career, I feared taking more than a few days off from work. No one told me I couldn’t—I just convinced myself that things would fall apart if I went away for too long.
Then one day, I got a call from my mom. I’ll never forget sitting there working in one of the new phone booths at our New York office. She told me my Pop-Pop was in the hospital, and it didn’t look good. Without hesitation, I packed up, went to my apartment, and drove home to be with my family. He passed away that evening.
When I returned to work, nothing had fallen apart. Sure, there were a few things to catch up on, but the team and projects had moved forward just fine without me.
This experience taught me something I’ve had to relearn over the years: as important as work or any other goal might seem, they are only one piece of the bigger picture—this thing we call life.
When Mylo was in the thick of treatment, I found myself craving all the little, everyday moments with him—like dancing around the kitchen to his favorite artist, Jack Johnson, and watching his face light up at the sight of scrambled eggs in the morning. It’s incredible how the things we take for granted suddenly feel so precious when they’re out of reach.
At times, I've convinced myself that certain things are the priority. Sometimes it’s chasing a big goal I’ve set for myself. Other times, it’s a home project I tell myself will make life better for the family. In those moments, it feels urgent—until something real happens, like Mylo getting sick, and everything I thought was a priority suddenly fades into the background. Those moments force me to pause and re-prioritize.
This past week at Barrel brought unexpected demands and hurdles we’re still navigating. But when I jumped in the car to take Mylo to urgent care on Friday, all of it faded away.
By Saturday evening, I’d almost forgotten how intense the week had been—until my parents stopped by and asked how work was going.
I’m not saying careers or ambitions don’t matter. They do. But we can get so caught up in chasing what we want to achieve or create for the future that we overlook what’s right in front of us.
The same is true in every aspect of life—whether it’s leading a team, building a business, or pursuing a personal goal. We can get so focused on what’s ahead that we forget to appreciate and make space for the moments happening right now.
This weekend was intense and exhausting, but I’m so grateful Mylo is healthy and that it wasn’t something more serious.
As we head into the holiday season—a time that can bring both joy and stress—I’m reminding myself to slow down, be present, and find balance between today and tomorrow.
Because it only takes a moment for everything to change.
Special thanks to the nurses and staff for the incredible care they gave Mylo. They handled every moment with such poise and compassion, never letting the weight of caring for sick little ones show. I can’t imagine being in their shoes—seeing what they see every day—and still maintaining the steadiness and warmth that helped put us at ease.
If everything changed tomorrow, what would I wish I had appreciated more today?