What Could It Become?

Over this past week, I've been asking myself a question that's changing the way I think about the future. What could The 10-Year Letter become if we stopped thinking incrementally?

I've been thinking about it on my daily walks, during conversations with our team, and while watching everything that's happening around me. The more I think about it, the more excited I become about what's possible.

Ryan flew to Austin and spent two solid days refining our workshop experience and developing the standards for future instructors. My bride, Nicole, has been building the enterprise and infrastructure. Jen has been preparing to share our message with hundreds and thousands of people through keynotes. Minnie and Sophia are working on our website and social media experience, while Ice is building the systems and tracking to support it all.

I've been writing, using the only voice I currently have, creating, thinking, simplifying, and challenging others to think about what's possible. I've been on Zoom calls with people who believe in this mission, and people I admire and respect are asking how they can become instructors. We've even received specific guidance from the production managers of Oprah and Jenna Bush Hager about getting the book into their hands. And my own kids are asking how they can get involved.

I've watched videos from a couple of our recent events where hundreds of people were holding up copies of The 10-Year Letter at the same time. This week, nearly a thousand more people will have that opportunity at two significant events on back-to-back days. It's incredible to watch something you believe in begin reaching people you may never meet.

All of it has me asking what else might be possible.

We've been having conversations about what it could look like to get The 10-Year Letter into 100,000 hands by the end of 2027 and reach millions of people by the end of 2030. Those aren't predictions or promises. They're possibilities worth exploring, and the conversations themselves are helping us think differently about how we spend our time, where we put our energy, and what we choose to build.

We're asking ourselves different questions. What would need to be true for something like that to happen? What would we need to learn? Who could we collaborate with? What deserves our attention today? Are we focused on opportunities that could help thousands of people, or are we jumping over thousands to pick up nickels and dimes?

I love what happens when you give yourself permission to ask questions like these. You begin seeing opportunities, having conversations, and making decisions you might never have considered before. And then you get to work. You take the next step, learn from what happens, and keep going.

The outcomes begin to take shape as we stay committed to the process.

And that has me thinking about our own lives. We make plans based on what we know, set goals based on what we've experienced, and imagine what's possible from where we stand today. But what if we occasionally gave ourselves the freedom to imagine something entirely different?

There's a difference between asking how to make something better and asking what it could become. One helps us improve what we already know. The other opens our minds to possibilities we haven't considered.

And bigger doesn't always mean more. Your bigger future might be a stronger marriage, a deeper relationship with your children, better health, greater freedom, or simply more time with the people you love. It's about getting clear on what matters most to you and allowing that vision to influence how you live today.

I don't know exactly what The 10-Year Letter will become, and I'm excited about that. I'm excited about the people involved, the opportunities ahead, and the work we're doing together. We're learning, improving, building relationships, and taking the next steps in front of us.

And that's really what I want to share with you this week. You don't have to know exactly where a bigger question will lead. Sometimes the value is in asking it, giving yourself the space to explore it, and committing to the process that follows.

So I'm taking the question I've been asking myself this week and turning it toward you. What could your life become if you stopped thinking incrementally?

I'd encourage you to spend some time with that question over the next week. Think about it on a walk. Write about it in your journal. Talk about it with your spouse, your children, or someone you trust. Give yourself the time and space to imagine what could be possible, even if you don't know exactly how you'd get there.

And I'd love to hear what comes up for you. If you're willing to share, reply to this letter and tell me what you're imagining. I'd genuinely love to read it.

Then pay attention to the ideas, conversations, and opportunities that begin to emerge. Choose a next step, take it, learn from it, and keep going.

Because sometimes the most important thing a bigger question gives us isn't an answer. It's a different way to begin.