Issue #005

💡 Insight

Last week, two of my childhood icons left the stage for good: Hulk Hogan at 71 and Ozzy Osbourne at 76.

The news didn’t come through a headline—it came up casually at a social event days later, mid-conversation.

I was devastated.

These weren’t just famous people to me. They were part of my past.

Growing up, my Nanna had a waterfront home at Pipers Lagoon, right next to Wheatcroft Park (yes, that’s actually a thing).

Summer days were long, quiet, and often just me.

I’d spend hours on the carpet with my action figures, acting out WWF storylines that would make Stone Cold Steve Austin proud.

In the background? Classic rock. Ozzy’s voice. Wild guitar solos. Give-no-F’s energy.

So hearing that both Hulk and Ozzy were gone… brought me right back to those days of my youth. Youth that I get further from with each passing day.

Here’s the thing that really shook me: they had everything. Fame. Fortune. Access to the best health care money can buy. And yet, their clocks still ran out.

But it’s not the idea of dying that scares me.

It’s the idea of not living.

If you’ve worked with me in a one-on-one coaching setting, you know I like to keep mortality close:

• A coin on my desk stamped Memento Mori — “remember death.”
• A giant hourglass on my bookshelf, symbolizing the constant slipping away of time.
• A wall clock permanently frozen at 3:24—my birthday.

Not because I’m morbid, but because every wisdom tradition I’ve studied—Stoic philosophy, Buddhism, even ancient tribal teachings—points to the same truth: time is short.

The Stoics didn’t avoid thinking about death. They invited it to the table.

Because when you truly grasp that your time is finite, you stop sweating the small stuff and start acting on what actually matters.

These celebrity deaths are reminders that success, money, and achievement can’t buy you more time. You could be the “Hulk Hogan” of your industry—or the “Ozzy Osbourne” of your niche—and still run out of dots on your life’s calendar sooner than you think.

🛠️ Resource

One of the simplest—and most confronting—tools I use in my Breakthrough Method is the 100 Dots Exercise.

Snag it here 👉 Breakthrough Academy - 100 Dots.pdf​

We do this in week one of Breakthrough Academy, and students often tell me it’s a wake-up call.

Here’s how to do it:

1. Print a sheet with 100 dots.
2. Shade 1 dot for every year you’ve lived.
3. Look at what’s left.
4. Pay special attention to dot #80—that’s the average life expectancy.

When I do this, I shade in 37 dots. If I live to 85 (my goal), I’ve got 46 dots left.

That’s 46 more summers with family and friends.

46 more wedding anniversaries to celebrate.

46 more years to follow my curiosities—personally and professionally.

But it's not the number of dots you have that matters.

It’s what you do with the time you have left.

✅ Action

Awareness without action is just trivia. So here’s how to make this stick:

Ask yourself—

• What 3 things must I do, see, or create before my dots run out?
• How do I want to live my days? (Not in theory—in detail.)
• What do I need to change to make that happen?
• Who do I need to show more love to?
• What truth do I need to tell?

Last time I reflected on my dots chart, my answers were:

1. Take one bucket-list trip with Mandy every year.
2. Write a book that outlives me.
3. Spend more weekends like I spend my best vacations—phone away, people close.

Your answers will look different. That’s the point.

Not sure what you want to do with your time? Go back to the Wheel of Life exercise from a recent Breakthrough Brief—it’s a great way to see where you want to invest more time, and what you might want to let go of to get there.

Your dots are limited. They don’t refill.

So spend your time unapologetically on what matters most to you.

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” – Carl Jung

In Your Corner,

Coach B

P.S. I want to take a moment to acknowledge the work my wife, Mandy, does. She’s a registered social worker in a long-term care home where most residents are living with dementia, Parkinson’s, or other life-limiting illnesses. Mandy sees death up close on a daily basis. It’s called “long-term care,” but in truth, much of it is palliative care. When the end is near—or planned through MAID—there’s a stark contrast between those who lived a rich life and those who look back with regrets.

Braden Wheatcroft 👋

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