My wife and I married late, so we decided not to have children. But as a girl hugged me during one of my book signings (see photo), that was the closest I ever felt to being a father.

I’ll tell this story in a minute. But when I was her age, I was fresh out of college, on survival mode, looking for a stable job with a surplus paycheck. In short, I was chasing success the way many in their 20s would define it:  position, possessions, prestige. You may say: money, mansion, Mercedes. Throw in a happy marriage and I’ve made it.

By my late 30s, I was at the peak of my career. I was Country Manager for a Fortune 500 company. But something felt strangely hollow. So my response was to look for more success.

Then the rug was pulled out under me.  Because of the Asian currency crisis in the late 90’s, I was retrenched. I thought someone with my academic and career credentials, I would get a new job in no time.

Well, “no time” stretched on for weeks, months, a year, two years. My savings went down to zero while my self-esteem went down to negative. My family sacrificed and invested in my education, and I felt I had let them down. To their credit, they were supportive and showed unconditional love. But I never felt more useless and ashamed in my whole life.

Through those barren days and dark nights, I resorted to journaling.  Pouring down my grief and anger on paper saved me from going the deep end.

My fortunes picked up when I found a new job and married the girl of my dreams.  As we moved into our house, my wife Lucy saw three-ring binders filled with print-outs.

“What are these?” she asked me.

“Oh,” I replied nonchalantly, “those were the journals I wrote when I was down and out.”

“These are good!” she exclaimed, “What you wrote should be shared with the rest of this world.”

Long story short, we found a publisher and in 2004, my first book Finding Comfort was born. It compiled some of my journals which talked about loneliness, disappointment, bitterness, and more.

The book had a “Contact Me” section which carried my email address. Soon, I was receiving emails from readers who were going through similar emotional problems. Some thanked me for the encouragement they found in my book. Others were asking for my advice.

That’s when everything clicked. I found something better than success. I found significance.

Going back to that photo, it was taken in 2018.  My publisher believed in Finding Comfort so much that they updated and relaunched it. During the book signing, this nervous wisp of a girl came up to me and whispered, “Sir, may I hug you?”

She slipped away before I can interview her.  But my wife and I like to think that the book made a difference in her life.  I lost my success but out of the ashes of my failure came significance.

Now that I am about to retire, I have heard a lot of people saying that they were furiously climbing up a ladder only to discover that the ladder was leaning against the wrong wall. They were pursuing success, only to realize they should have pursued significance.

I have nothing against getting rich, driving a nifty car, and living in a dream house. But we are wired to be more than that. We are wired to make an impact on other people’s lives.

But here’s my real message:

You don’t have to be in your 40s or in a C-suite to pursue significance. You can start while you are young and mobile. Don’t wander through life for ten or twenty years before you conclude that while success is pleasant, significance is far more satisfying.

Start measuring your life not by your net worth, but by the positive changes you are making in the people around you.

Start small, start somewhere, start now.

Once you embark on a quest for significance, you will arrive at something even better: legacy.