For much of my younger life, success looked outward.
Adventure.
Achievement.
Freedom.
Experience.
Accomplishment.
And honestly, I was pretty good at all of those things.
I built successful businesses.
I worked on incredible film projects.
I climbed mountains, kayaked rivers, flew an experimental aircraft across the country, and eventually retired at 42 to sail around the world with my wife Dee.
We had created our dream life.
But over time, something surprising happened.
I realized that adventures and accomplishments alone eventually stop being enough.
That realization unfolded slowly during the 17 years Dee and I spent sailing around the world through more than 100 countries.
Looking back now, I can clearly see that our sailing life went through three very distinct phases.
The first phase I call:
“The Don’t Die Phase.”
When we first moved aboard our sailboat, almost everything was new and intimidating.
Weather.
Navigation.
Ocean crossings.
Coral reefs.
Mechanical systems.
Storms.
Our focus was almost entirely inward because it had to be.
We were simply trying to learn enough not to sink the boat or kill ourselves.
People often romanticize adventure, but the early phase of almost any meaningful journey is usually about survival and skill-building.
You are overwhelmed.
You are uncertain.
You are trying to become competent enough to function.
And honestly, there is nothing wrong with that phase.
You cannot contribute much to others if you are constantly drowning yourself.
But eventually, we became experienced sailors.
Confident sailors.
Capable sailors.
And that led us into the second phase of our journey.
I call it:
“The Mutual Benefit Phase.”
As we sailed through developing countries, especially poorer regions, we encountered people whose needs were often immediate and obvious.
A village school needed supplies.
Someone needed tools.
Clothes.
Medicine.
Help repairing something.
So we began carrying extra items aboard specifically to help people we met along the way.
But what made this phase beautiful was that it wasn’t one-sided charity.
It was mutually beneficial.
Yes, we might give school supplies or tools or clothing.
But in return, people often gave us fish they had caught that day. Or fruit and vegetables from their gardens. They invited us into their homes, introduced us to their families, shared meals with us, and opened windows into cultures and lives we never otherwise would have experienced.
The exchange wasn’t transactional.
It was deeply human.
We were helping each other in different ways.
And honestly, many of the people we met gave us far more than we gave them.
They taught us generosity.
Gratitude.
Community.
Presence.
Joy with very little material wealth.
But eventually Dee and I began realizing something uncomfortable:
Most of what we were doing was temporary.
A band-aid.
The next year the school would still need more supplies.
Someone else would still need tools.
Another family would still need clothing.
And while those acts absolutely mattered in the moment, we began asking ourselves a deeper question:
Could we somehow create longer-lasting change?
That question eventually led us to the third phase of our sailing life.
And that phase changed my understanding of happiness forever.
The Third Phase: Contribution That Ripples Forward
During our travels, Dee and I spent about three months in Indonesia.
One week of that time was spent in a small city called Kupang.
And during that single week, we met a young woman named Nita who changed the direction of our lives.
Nita volunteered to act as our guide partly because she wanted to practice her English. She was bright, funny, curious, personable, and incredibly intelligent.
The kind of person who instantly stands out.
I remember thinking:
“If she had grown up in the United States, she probably would have been on a full academic scholarship somewhere.”
But in Indonesia, her family survived on roughly $200 a month.
Fortunately, Nita had managed to obtain a scholarship to the local teacher’s college.
And suddenly Dee and I realized:
There must be countless other young women exactly like her whose potential would never fully emerge simply because of where they were born financially.
That realization changed us.
So Dee and I decided to start a scholarship program ourselves.
Not through a giant nonprofit.
Not through some large organization.
Just us.
We created a scholarship program based on two things:
financial need and academic performance.
And we intentionally focused primarily on helping young women.
Because throughout much of the developing world, educating women often lifts entire communities more powerfully than educating men.
Educated women improve health outcomes.
Family stability.
Children’s education.
Economic mobility.
Community resilience.
We knew other sailors would feel just as we did about making a difference in the places we passed through so we managed to come up with a clever method where itinerant sailors just like ourselves could donate every year.
Over the next 14 years, our scholarship program put 29 students through five-year college programs — most of them future teachers.
And here’s the remarkable part:
The impact extended far beyond those 29 students.
Every teacher would eventually go on to teach hundreds or even thousands of children during their career.
The ripple effect became enormous.
And that’s when I fully understood something I had only partially grasped before:
Contribution creates a deeper kind of happiness than achievement alone ever can.
The Happiness Most People Are Actually Looking For
Modern culture trains us to pursue accumulation.
More money.
More success.
More status.
More recognition.
More experiences.
More stuff.
And while there is nothing inherently wrong with any of those things, many people eventually discover something unsettling:
Achievement without contribution often feels strangely empty.
Psychologists call the deeper form of fulfillment eudaemonic happiness — happiness connected to meaning, growth, purpose, and contribution.
It is very different from pleasure.
Pleasure is wonderful.
I love pleasure.
A beautiful sunset.
A great meal.
A successful business.
Adventure.
Travel.
A new purchase.
All of those things bring enjoyment.
But human beings adapt remarkably quickly to pleasure.
Contribution behaves differently.
Contribution deepens over time.
Because contribution creates meaning.
And meaning nourishes people at a much deeper level than consumption ever can.
The happiest people I know almost always share one common trait:
Their life is not entirely centered on themselves.
They are helping.
Teaching.
Mentoring.
Encouraging.
Serving.
Building.
Giving.
Creating opportunities for others.
And contribution does not need to be enormous to matter.
That’s important.
Not everyone is starting a scholarship program.
Sometimes contribution looks like:
- mentoring a younger employee
- helping a struggling friend
- raising kind children
- volunteering
- supporting your community
- sharing wisdom
- listening deeply
- making another person’s burden lighter
Small acts ripple outward too.
In fact, most human lives are changed not by celebrities or giant organizations, but by ordinary people consistently showing up for others.
The Question That Changes Everything
The older I get, the more convinced I become that a meaningful life is not built entirely around personal success.
It is built around growth, connection, purpose, and contribution.
Adventure enriched my life enormously.
So did business success.
So did freedom.
But contribution gave those things meaning.
And maybe that’s the natural evolution of a well-lived life.
At first we focus on survival.
Then achievement.
Then experience.
But eventually, if we are fortunate, we begin asking a deeper question:
How can my life improve life for others too?
That question changed my life.
And perhaps it can change yours too.