The end is the answer

Horizon anxiety into opportunity

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Last night I was at a networking event, making my way through the crowd, meeting people left and right. Some were interesting, some not so much. That’s the gamble you take with any sort of networking event, but sometimes you’ll meet some really incredible people that make it worth it.

I was just about ready to call it, turning towards the exit and taking the first step away from the event, when someone sparked up a conversation with me. Little did I know that this chance encounter would turn out to be the highlight of the night. We chatted about all kinds of things from companies to hardware to mobility to watches, and even met another guy standing nearby who contributed a ton of great perspective.

It got me thinking—why is the end of something where the best stuff happens?

I've noticed this pattern in my life before. Take my time at Bird, for example. Some of my closest friendships were forged during those after-work escapades. You know the drill—when people go for an after-work beer at a bar, which then led to dinner and then potentially more drinks etc. Or not even drinks. Sometimes it was just raiding the snacks or playing the piano while slowly deflating bean bags in the lobby (ahem Maggie). It's like the end of the day was when we all could just chill and hang out and be more authentic as ourselves.

And it got me wondering, how can we apply this "end is the answer" framework to other aspects of our lives, not just late after-hours with coworkers?

When is the end?

Life isn't always neatly packaged like a book. We can't always pinpoint the exact midpoint or predict the climax. It's not that straightforward. There's that saying about wishing we knew the good times when we were in them. And while we might catch a glimpse of it, most of the time, we're left guessing.

But here's the thing—when we can see the end just over the horizon, we start to shift our role in the event. We become more authentic, more open to whatever comes our way. Or we take the task at hand a bit more seriously. Whether consciously or unconsciously, we start to behave differently. We've already committed to the event or the experience, and now we're ready to savor the moment a bit more intensely than before.

It's tempting to simplify this concept, to think of it as a numbers game. When you’re past the midway point you’ve been experiencing the event for long enough to know how it’s generally going. You can then judge whether what’s left to come is going to meet or exceed the standard of what you’ve already experienced. Sure, there's some randomness involved, but let's not get too caught up in the math.

Think about those moments in your own life where there's a natural conclusion —and the midway point is where things start to get richer. It could be that summer in a new city or the transitionary period before graduation or when you’ve decided you’re moving on to a new job or city. We often find ourselves at these crossroads, and suddenly, the horizon is in sight, and we treat our time differently.

I experienced this when traveling – The first month of Europe I took at a leisurely pace, staying in each city for 5 days or more. But as I entered the second and final month of my travels, I went to way more cities by condensing my timeline to 3 days per city. This shift in schedule was my anxiety of seeing the horizon, and realizing I needed to up my efforts for widening serendipity.

Time and tide wait for no man

We know we have to keep moving forward because there is no choice. There's no extending the runway without facing the truth—we're reaching the finish line. Even if we artificially extend that line, there will always be the knowledge that the original end date was once etched in our plans. Sometimes this motivates us to do more with what we have.

If we know that the halfway point, when we can start to see the horizon, is where we begin to appreciate our situation more, then how can we live more authentically and embrace these opportunities right from the start? How do we minimize regret and manage our expectations?

It's about finding that sweet spot, that balance between passively assessing the situation and actively trying to make the most of where we are at. Because great things rarely happen when we're clinging to a preconceived notion of how things should be. We have to participate and be present in experiences, and the quality of an experience is constantly shifting.

Sometimes you feel like you’re not getting much else out of the experience and it’s probably worth taking off, while other times you’re just in it for the plot, the plot is escalating, and going home just sounds boring.

Adjust the horizon

The best thing we can do is react early and authentically to our circumstances.

Move the horizon in your own mind into an artificially earlier timeframe so you give yourself the space to already be a veteran of the experience. If you condense your exploration earlier, you’ll have that much more time to gather insights and apply them up until the later real horizon.

This idea is a lighter version of stoicism’s teaching of always being aware of death. In this case though it’s the death of what you’re experiencing. How would you treat your time differently if you knew it was almost over, even if it might not be going how you’d like at the moment?

Think about what you might do differently if you were up against the next milestone, whether in your life more broadly, in the middle of a phase with a known ending, or on your calendar even just today. What ways can you force yourself to be more invested into the situation earlier?

If anything, maybe try sticking around a little later. Extend your horizon and make room for serendipity. Hang out for 15 minutes after to see who filters themselves out and who sticks around for more. Who knows – the highlight of the whole experience could be waiting for you just when you’re about to leave.