The People I Envy

I wrote this a while ago, and it still rings true to me today. Here are the types of people that inspire me:

Action-biased hard-hitters. In my little life (’92–’25), I’ve come to appreciate one trait above all: taking action. It’s a muscle—an ability that pays its weight in gold. It’s not about perfect ideas or polished products, it’s about putting something out there. It’s not about talent, it’s about that silly guy too stubborn to quit. Life resists, sure, but it can’t keep saying no forever. Persistent action-takers wear it down. Eventually, they get what they came for.
People neck-deep in passions they’ve discovered and embraced—carpenters, mechanics, teachers, musicians, R&D Specialists. It’s not about how grand or prestigious the job (or what occupies you) is. It’s the raw joy you squeeze out of it. That quiet, consuming delight where time dissolves, and you fall into the work. Mind and spirit in sync. The pain of the process fades under the weight of fulfilment. You don’t do it for the world, even though the world might enjoy it. The aim starts selfish, but others can enjoy it too. You don’t do it for them. You do it because you can’t not do it.
Those who’ve figured out what they’re meant to do—and have been doing it for years. I look at an accomplished person and wonder how they found what to dedicate their life to. I try to imagine the choices, the turning points—like a river winding through points of least resistance. Looking at them now can be discouraging; it seems like they’ve always known. Like they were born with their life’s blueprint in hand. But I’ve learned that everyone worth admiring has been through the mess. And from that mess, they carved their path—like Michelangelo’s David. Everyone is self-made, for better or worse.
Those with results—and scars—to show. Every success story comes with scars. Building strength means risking injury, and healing makes you more resilient. Life works the same. What doesn’t kill you teaches you, at a high cost. These are the side-quest trophies that give you an edge in the game. The quests themselves are undesirable, risky, and often come with real stakes—so most avoid them. They coast on easy mode, doing just enough to move to the next round, until there are no more rounds left. This is where the risk-takers start to pull away from the pack—by virtue of the risks they’ve braved. Fortune favors the brave has never rung truer..
Those rare people at the top—who don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s easy to slip into pride. You’ve taken real risks, paid the price, stared down failure, and won. You deserve the rewards. No one can tell you otherwise. But there’s something noble about those who don’t boast. The few who pretend not to notice. They fell in love with the journey, not the destination. They just enjoyed the game—and now that it’s over, they’re surprised. Maybe even a little sad. If they could go back, they’d play it exactly the same—or risk even more.