What if we've been measuring success the wrong way?

I’m exploring a small town in Norway when I notice something that catches me off guard.

Two businessmen in expensive suits are sitting under a few trees, eating lunch.

“That’s strange,” I think. “Back home, most people are glued to work and eat lunch at their desks.”

Here, though, things seem different.

A little girl laughs as she runs around a nearby playground. Ice cream drips onto her shirt, leaving a big stain. Her mom smiles, kneels down, and wipes it away like it’s no big deal.

“Welcome to Norway,” my tour guide says with a laugh after noticing me watching everything. “We do things a little differently here.”

I don’t know how long I stand there taking it all in.

But for a minute, I forget we’re supposed to be on a schedule.

“It’s time to head back to the tour bus,” she says. “If you liked the towns, just wait until you see the scenery.”

I stand at the top of a mountain road called Trollstigen, just taking it all in. I can see for miles, and everywhere I look there’s another view that somehow tops the last one. The mountains rise on both sides of the valley, and for a second, it really does feel like I’m standing on top of the world.

Then I look to my right.

A huge waterfall crashes down the mountainside, dropping hundreds of feet before disappearing below. I stand there listening to it for a while. There’s something calming about the sound, even with all that water rushing over the rocks.

I turn back to my tour guide.

“This place makes me feel... I don’t know. More relaxed,” I tell her. “It’s like Norway somehow alleviated a lot of my stress.”

She smiles.

“Friluftsliv.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. I try to keep my attention on the conversation, but I keep catching myself looking back at the view.

“It means free air life,” she says. “It’s a Norwegian word for a way of living that values spending time in nature and appreciating it.”

I don’t say anything for a minute. Just stand there and breathe in the cool mountain air. Because I don’t know when I’ll be back in Norway. But while I’m here, I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.

I take a sip of my hot decaf coffee and look out the café window at the Norwegian port town of Ålesund. The place feels cozy without trying too hard as it has rustic wooden tables with a few modern touches. Basically, the kinda café where it’s easy to lose track of time.

My tour guide sits across from me, telling me what it’s like to live in Norway.

“Working a maximum of 40 hours a week, excluding overtime, is written into law,” she says. “It gives a lot of people more time with their families and more time to enjoy nature.”

“Friluftsliv,” I say with a smile, happy that I’ve managed to remember one Norwegian word.

“Exactly,” she says. “Nobody gets to the end of life wishing they’d spent more time answering emails, sitting in meetings, or commuting to the office.”

I take another sip of coffee and start wondering what I want to do differently when I get home. Because I’d rather reach the end of my life with lessons learned than a long list of regrets.

My tour guide smiles at me from across the table.

Outside, the sun begins to dip below the horizon. And I finish my decaf coffee and sit there for another minute, watching the last light disappear. Then I make myself a promise to spend less time rushing. And hopefully, a lot more time enjoying the present moment.

Share