Power Questions: Build Relationships, Win New Business, and Influence Others

34
Capture the Moments
He had everything to live for.
There was a baronial home in Connecticut's most affluent zip code, a
loving family, a salary beyond anything he had ever believed possible. And
a recent promotion.
Let me tell you about the job. He was the CEO and Chairman of the
Board of KPMG, one of the premier and largest accounting firms in the
world. It was a position he had sacrificed to achieve. The long hours, the
travel, neglecting the family, the scrambling to get the key position.
Gene O'Kelly was sitting on top of the world.
Then he discovers he has a blind date with destiny. On a routine semi-
annual executive physical exam, he complains to his doctor about a
reoccurring problem he is having. They probe and examine. The clinic puts
him through a battery of extra tests.
The results are conclusive. The news is not good. Tragic.
Gene O'Kelly is told that he has an inoperable brain tumor. At best, he has
90 days to live. These are the moments you realize that life goes by so fast,
if you don't stop every once in a while to look around you, you might miss
it.
We don't know of the sudden despair he must have felt. How he broke the
news to his wife. How he faced up to the prognosis. What middle-of-the-
night fears he faced. In times like this, one's life shrinks or expands in
proportion to one's courage.
What we do know is that O'Kelly was a driven man, compulsive, and a
realist. He must have felt at some point, soon after his death sentence, that
his 90 days of life were too precious to waste on regrets. He knew from his
business experience that successful people are those who are good at
moving to Plan B.

---

He decides to keep a journal chronicling the 90 days of life left to him.
(Actually he will live 60 days beyond that.)
Now, please get a pen and paper. I'll wait.
I want to strongly suggest that you get a copy of the book he wrote. It's
called Chasing Daylight. It made an indelible impact on me. It will on you,
also. That's a promise.
It made me realize that I must look at things as if I am seeing them for the
first time, but, also, as if I am seeing them for the last time. And perhaps as
if I would never see them again. I had to take everything in and remember it
all forever. I had to capture every moment.
I speak at workshops, seminars, and conferences. I spend about 60 days a
year in my speaking engagements. Some years more.
The book made such an impact on me that I started beginning all of my
speeches by asking the group to think about what they would do if they
only had 90 days to live. Who would you visit? What wrongs would you
right? Which friends would you tell how much you love them? What places
might you want to visit for the last time? How would you spend the last
days with your family?
You get the idea. I want to impress on those in my audience that life is a
very fragile thing. You begin dying the day you are born. I remind them to
live life to its fullest—their cup overflowing with joy, fulfillment, and
rewards. I tell them to work as if they will live forever, and live as if they
would die tomorrow.
After doing this exercise for a year or two, I realized that there was
actually a more significant question. What would you do if you knew you
had only three years to live? The reason that's a more consequential
question is that it is more thought-provoking. It really stretches you.
Ninety days gives you an opportunity to quickly bring all of the elements
of your life into a neat package and tie it with a ribbon. But changing the
time frame to three years creates a very different challenge. It forces you to
do a great deal more thinking and planning. It gives you time to do more
than just wrap things up. You are reminded that things don't change. You
change your way of looking at them.
You take a careful look at the inevitable forward motion of life. But
suddenly it has an abrupt stop. The end.

---

The more I think about extending the time period to three years, the better
I like the idea. That's when I decide I will do something a bit different at my
speaking engagements. I do it now at all of them.
I give everyone a blank envelope. I tell them to write their return address
in the left-hand corner. Then I have them address the envelope to
themselves. “Mark it Personal and Confidential,” I tell them. In the right-
hand corner where the stamp goes, I have them put the date.
I now ask them to write a quick narrative. A very special document.
“Don't worry about the sentence structure, spelling, or ending the
sentence with a preposition. Forget everything your freshman English
teacher taught you. What I want is a free flow of spontaneous writing.
“Make your mind into a blank sheet of white paper. Now you're ready to
write.
“You have three years to live, three years from today. What would you do
to change your life, personally and professionally? What would you hope to
accomplish? Who are the people you would want to bring into your life in a
more intimate way?”
I tell them that a friend is someone who knows the song of your soul and
sings it back to you when you've forgotten the words. Who are those friends
and why aren't you seeing more of them now? How would you change your
life?
I give them 15 minutes to complete the narrative. No one really needs
longer than that. I want an unadorned, unvarnished, and a totally heart-
exposed report.
I ask them to fold the paper, put it in the envelope they've addressed, and
seal the envelope. I gather all the envelopes and take them back to my
office. I have these on a tickler. The office sends them out three years later.
I have been doing this now for about six years. The results are
extraordinary. I have a dozen or so phone calls every month from folks who
receive their envelopes.
They tell me that when they first see the envelope, it seems to them that
the writing looks very familiar, but they can't remember having addressed
the envelope. (Three years is a long time.) They open the envelope and read
how they planned to spend the three years. That's when I get the phone
calls.

---

Some tell me how close they are to being able to achieve what they had
written. Many tell me how blessed they are to have lived beyond the third
year. I have had glorious comments. I have made a note of all of them. (I
think someday I'll write a book!)
Social scientists tell us that when you make a public commitment to
something, it greatly increases the odds you will actually do it. We know
that if you put it in writing, it leaves an indelible mark on your mind.
Just be careful what you wish for. It may very likely come true.
This is a question that can be used in countless situations. I have used it
with clients, with friends, and the family. “If you knew you had only three
years to live, what would you hope to achieve personally and
professionally?”
It is a question that will lead you on a journey of wondrous pathways. The
signposts are all down. There's no road map to follow.
This question forces people to begin thinking about how to reorder the
priorities in their life. It helps them understand they must not wait until just
the right time. The time will never be just right.
They will be ignited somehow by an emotional spark. The canvas of their
life is neutral but the details are ready to be filled in and will be fluorescent.
Invite someone to think deeply about their priorities in life and how
they want to spend the remainder of their days. Ask: “If you knew