In the ongoing tapestry that is my life, I have been blessed to have learned from many great and wise people. One such guiding star was Clay Christensen. Clay was an extraordinary human being. Not just a man of vast intellect, Clay was kind. Clay was gentle, even soft-spoken. Of course, Clay was the brightest of luminaries in his field, a journey that had him studying in the great sanctuaries of learning like BYU, Oxford, Yale and Harvard. Forbes called him one of the most influential business theorists of the last 50 years. Sadly Clay passed away in 2017 at the young age of 67.

It was my privilege to journey through Harvard Business School’s hallowed halls from 1995-1996. During those years, Clay illuminated minds with a course we affectionately called “TOM” – a delve into the intricate dance of technology, operations, and large-scale enterprise process management. Yet, my memories from that course do not dwell on the technicalities. Instead, they are anchored in a profound moment in December of 1995.

Harvard Business School classrooms are reminiscently designed with tinges of ancient amphitheaters, where Socratic dialogues once sparked eruptions of thought. Seated within this embrace of wisdom, with our professor at its center, we looked forward to the insights each session would bring. But on that chilly December day, Clay took a seat at the helm, not as a professor, but as a sage sharing life’s distilled wisdom, and with a gentleness that silenced the room, he whispered to our souls: “Every so often, seek solitude. Reflect upon the legacy you wish to leave behind. What would your epitaph proclaim?”

I moved from the East Coast to Colorado in 2006. Perched high upon the serene mountains of Boulder, Colorado, I often heeded Clay’s counsel, letting introspection guide me. Once, in the very throes of this meditative exercise, a thought emerged: If every soul, all 8 billion, were to pen their epitaph, what tales of dreams, hopes, and lives lived would they tell?

I realized quickly, the beautifully personal and subjective nature of the question. Each person’s epitaph would be as unique as their fingerprints, and that everyone would describe an epitaph that was as unique as the individual. What tales of dreams, hopes and lives would they tell? At the same time, another realization appeared, a universal truth I could have never conjured. That no soul, in its final reckoning, would proclaim for their epitaph “Here lies David Gould. He helped maximize shareholder value…”

This revelation is not merely a critique of corporate dogma — it is a mirror held up to our collective priorities. If no one on their deathbed would celebrate a life spent maximizing profits, then why do we build our entire economic system around profit maximization? Why do we chase shadows when there’s a world of substance to embrace? How do we find true value beyond profit maximization?

Let us awaken to the higher callings of our shared humanity, recognizing that true value is not measured in profit, but in the imprints we leave on the hearts of others. #TheRootCause