The Most Beautiful Game

Remember when we were small and words failed us—but our fingers did not? 

When something captured our curiosity, we simply pointed at it. 

We couldn’t speak, so we used our pointer instead, letting others know what piqued our interest: a delicious treat at the dinner table, an animal at the park, or another child to play with at school.

Things would appear in our world, spark a flame inside us, and we’d move towards them.

But as we grew older, we stopped pointing. In fact, we were told not to point because it’s considered rude. We stopped letting our curiosity lead us all together. 

We were told to fit into neat little boxes—squares into square holes—so we hid that bright, childlike spark beneath layers of caution.

As adults, we start to give ourselves excuses—why perhaps we are not good enough, why the timing is not right, and why it is too much effort.

And yet, that spark of wonder never truly disappeared. It’s still there, waiting for us to point again… not necessarily with our finger, but with our eyes, our ears, and our hearts.

When we listen closely and put aside distractions, we allow something deep inside to rise to the surface—that’s the sign. That’s our mind, body, and soul saying, “Pay attention. This might just change your life.” 

These moments are small but mighty if you listen closely. They happen as often or as infrequently as you decide to let them. They pull us out of the ordinary and remind us to chase the extraordinary. They invite us to be who we truly are: explorers of life, pointing eagerly at anything that sparks our curiosity.

We don’t experience life. We experience the life we focus on, and what we point towards.

So here’s my invitation to you: point again. Look around and listen closely. Wait for the moments when your inner voice says, “Yes, that lights me up.” 

When you have something to say, silence is a lie. When you feel something but fail to act, it turns into regret. These moments may not happen often, but you don’t want to miss them.

It was four years ago that I entered a house in France and stood beneath a painting. My family and girlfriend kept wandering around the house, but I was frozen in time.

Something within me was struck so deeply, I was rooted to the spot beneath it. I looked in wonder as it lit up my entire being.

As Steve Jobs said, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.”

It took nearly a year for it all to make sense.

I had no idea at the time what those feelings meant, but I often wonder: if I’d been distracted in that moment, would I be writing to you today?

I just happened to listen closely to myself in that moment and kept exploring what that painting stirred deep inside of me.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. But I followed those feelings down the rabbit hole, until many months later I had the idea where it all came together.

What if I reached out to the artist and told him about my idea of “No Ordinary Moments”? What if his paintings could be the main concept of the brand?

I drew it out on a piece of paper, found his website online, and reached out to him with the idea.

He loved it! Granting us full permission to use all his paintings as the imagery for the brand. (Here he is, by the way—his name is Nils Geylen.)

Pointing at something and acting on it engages us in life. It allows us to learn along the way, to take a risk, and to step out into the unknown.

We should gently move back to our inner child, where we lived in the richness of life every day. Where we were not afraid of missing what we pointed at.

As children, we knew no failure. We simply got back up, pointed again, and stayed fully immersed in the process of pointing and acting on what sparked that curiosity inside of us.

Listen closely to that spark of curiosity still glowing within you—it is still there. Let it guide your next steps.

“Follow the White Rabbit” from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland isn’t just about chasing a whimsical character down a rabbit hole; it’s about welcoming the unknown—allowing yourself to be drawn towards whatever ignites your imagination and leads you to unexpected, wondrous discoveries.

There, you’ll find your own Wonderland—and the true richness of life.

What you aim at determines what you see.

Point and act again.