I was on a course and the trainer asked us to write what we’d want written on our tombstone.

Freer.

I smiled and leaned back in my chair and laughed a little.

“Oh, god,” someone said, and laughed nervously.

I think having that written on your tombstone could be seen as arrogant, but who knows.

I was excited because I knew it would make me think about what was truly important. Surprisingly excited, actually. Had I been waiting for this?

The other day I thought “I want a gold chain. A long one. Because then I’ll look cool.”

I don’t want “Matt had a cool gold chain” written on my tombstone. I don’t want anyone to say that at my funeral. Unless they’re joking. I want people to joke at my funeral.

As I was writing I realised Steve Jobs was right:

“Almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

I wrote mine quickly and I looked up and people were still writing. I smiled. I smiled because I was happy with my tombstone. That’s worth a smile.

He told us to stop. He asked us to look at what we’d read, and read it again, and think about how happy we were with it.

“Yeah, I’m happy with that,” I thought. “Really happy, actually.”

It was who I was. It was exactly how I wanted to be remembered. Of course I was really happy with it.

He asked us to read over it again, one more time, to see how happy we were with it. He asked us to look at it, feel it, make it part of us.

Everyone said they were happy. We were pleased with ourselves.

And then he said it.

“Aren’t you more than that?”

I’d just written the perfect tombstone and he’d broken it with one blow.

I never expected that but there was only one answer.

“Yeah, I am,” I thought.

I thought even deeper into who I was, who I really was, who all of me was.

I rewrote my tombstone but I wasn’t excited.

I was still smiling but it was a knowing smile.

I felt more but less.

I felt whole. I felt peace.

Every time I’ve asked myself that question, and every time I’ve asked someone else that question, there’s only been one answer.

“Yes.”

That’s remarkable.

Well, actually, if every single person gives the same answer then it’s not remarkable.

It’s who we are.

Are we always more than we think we are? Can we always be more? @Matt_Hearnden
(Click to Tweet!)

I hope so.

Because when I’ve achieved all I want to achieve, when I’ve achieved more than I thought I ever could achieve, when the space in every atom of who I am is filled with me, and only me, I still have a secret weapon.

The miracle question. The one that sets me free when I’m not even trapped.

Who are you? Who are you really? If you were all of who you really are, what would happen?

Imagine it. See it in front of you. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. You live where you want, do what you want, see who you want, be who you want. Feel it. Be there. Make it real. Make it irresistible. Make it so the only smart choice is to come back to the now and create it.

Good. Now come back here and read the next line.

Aren’t you more than that?

Matt Hearnden is a writer from the UK. He mostly tells stories only he can tell. He blogs twice a week at www.matthearnden.com just self-published his first book:42. Matt writes every day because he loves it and because it stops him watching Netflix. And, probably more importantly, he plays basketball and has lots of tattoos. Youc can find him on Twitter, IG & Quora.

Image courtesy of davide ragusa.