You, Dust, and the Midas Touch

We see it on television, in movies, and in real life. Someone moves to a new town for a fresh start. A guy who is unhappy at work quits and lands his dream job. A brokenhearted girl looks to her left and finds true love with the wedding singer who had been there all along. While all these things can happen in real life—and sometimes do—we tend to believe that external change is the path to a happier life.

If I get a new job, I’ll be happier in my career.

If I move to a new zip code, I’ll have a fresh start.

If I start over with someone new, it’ll be different this time.

We think if we change the setting, everything will magically fall into place. But we often fail to consider the one constant that never changes: no matter where we go or who we’re with, we take ourselves.

Years ago, I was part of a team outside of my job. Although it was structured, 99% of the team’s success—and the success of its members—depended on the people who voluntarily participated. There were two people out of the hundreds that I met who still stand out in my mind today. The first, who we’ll call Dean, was always happy to help everyone else on the team with their roles. He was reliable, honest, and focused on assisting teammates to reach their goals. The second, who we’ll call Bob, was there for Bob. Everything he did was self-serving. He often asked others to go out of their way to help him meet his goals, but not once did he offer to help someone else. He was also unreliable. He’d commit to showing up for a crucial role at an event, and if he did come, he was late. Once, at an important event, as I stood there wondering if Bob was going to show, I looked over and saw Dean helping someone and thought to myself that if Dean asked me for a job reference, I’d be able to give him a glowing review. But if Bob asked for one? I couldn’t say anything other than, “Oh, he’s friendly and outgoing.” Because in the end, the setting didn’t matter—I knew they’d each take themselves wherever they went.

We all do.

Like Dean, if we have a great work ethic in a volunteer setting, that same great ethic shows up with us when we clock in for our jobs every day. If we are reliable, people will notice and say, “I can depend on this person.” If we are honest, they’ll learn they can trust our words. If we are compassionate and kind, those traits come with us, too. The scenery may change. The company may change. But we don’t—unless we choose to.

Everyone has good parts and not-so-great parts. The sum of the good and the bad makes us who we are, and none of us is entirely one or the other. Just as we carry the good things with us, we also have the undesirable ones that—if left unchecked—will eventually sabotage every scene and situation we enter. A self-serving person is selfish, no matter what town they live in. Someone who is undependable doesn’t suddenly become reliable on their first day at a new job. When we’re lugging around our flaws, unhealed wounds, and other not-so-great parts of us, everything we touch will corrode, turning even gold into dust.

The good news is, just like we take ourselves everywhere, others take themselves when they leave. They carry themselves to the next destination, and although they might pack away pieces of what they learned from us, they don’t get to take us along for the ride. We still have ourselves and are still standing whole—the good, the flawed, a work in progress.

It’s up to us to decide what to do with that.

Hang on to the good parts—they’ve gotten you this far. But be brave enough to dig inside, unearth what still needs work, and start making repairs.

Because when you move on—to the next friendship, the next relationship, the next town, or the next chapter of your story—don’t you want to bring the version of yourself who turns everything they touch into gold…not dust?