I’m in a hurry to get things done
Oh, I rush and rush until life’s no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
Even I’m in a hurry and don’t know why

Don’t know why I have to drive so fast
My car has nothing to prove
It’s not new
But it’ll do 0 to 60 in 5.2, oh

Lyrics from “I’m in a hurry (and don’t know why)” by Alabama from the American Pride album released in 1992.

My memories are that Alabama was a mega-band during my childhood, high school years, and college years. Alabama was to country what Van Halen was to rock and roll – an unquestioned supergroup that was in the conversation for best American country band of the year for about 20 years between 1980 and 2000. Alabama could compete for best American band, regardless of genre, during the same period. Alabama did not have the frontmen that Van Halen enjoyed, but the band was arguably more successful while being at the forefront of country music to pop music crossovers. After all, Alabama introduced N’ Sync and Justin Timberlake to the music world at the Country Music Association awards in 1999, well before N’Sync became known for Bye Bye Bye or Justin became known for wardrobe malfunctions. The band produced over 40 #1 singles and over 20 #1 singles in a row. Alabama should probably have a wing in the Country Music Hall of Fame.

This song was in heavy rotation in a personal playlist during my trip to Japan in the winter of 2017. I was at the end of a 3 month career break and transitioning from one job to another; from enterprise software back to services. I would listen to this song on the long train rides through rural Japan, often looking out the window with great sadness. I had a realization of time being wasted, of being in a rush. As I am prone to do, I made commitments to myself to reduce the hurried moments upon my return to America, a future commitment to action not connected to any commitment to act in the present moment. I continued to rush around the rural countryside, trying to pack in a lot of places rather than discovering all that was available in the current location. I was on a bullet train every day. The irony was lost on me.

After returning to America in February 2017, I continued to keep this song in my rotation, listening to it at least once a month in the following four years, sometimes many times a month. The song was part of the steady background music to the discontent in my life. So this message smacked me hard. The conditions are noteworthy: aquamarine ink at eye level met my mind that was ready to receive the loving message of the writer. The conditions of my mind were ready. This tag (re)awakened me in a millisecond to the growing discontent with being in a hurry yet running in place and it reminded me of the fruitless pursuit to prove my worth, both professionally and personally. I likely was in a hurry that Saturday evening, on my brisk daily walk to and from the lake. Even on a Saturday, I was in a hurry. But the world was telling me that I have nothing to prove. I heard the voices of Alabama singing within me.

The next 9 months were a slow build to the realization that I don’t have anything to prove professionally. That insight enabled me to more comfortably step away from my career for a while. I will still be an effective strategist, if I choose to return to consulting or eCommerce or for profit businesses. I have great confidence that the market will judge me worthy and that my skills will be in demand. I have not arrived at the insight that I have nothing to prove to myself. I have not yet separated the essence of being and doing from the desire for and acts of proving. I have not yet discovered that comfort. I am pursuing some outsized goals that will take a long time to achieve, if ever. But the attainment of goals is not proof.

You have nothing to prove.