As many of you know, I am huge of Malcolm Gladwell. And one of the things that he has popularized through his writing is this idea that we all need to spend at least 10,000 hours specializing on someting in order to become truly exceptional at it. The Beatles did this because of all the time they spent playing music. Bill Gates did this because he was fortunate enough to have access to a computer at an early age. And Tiger Woods did this because his father gave him clubs as a toddler and got him to start practicing the game of golf. But is this truly the rule or the exception?

In this recent TEDx Talk by David Epstein (embedded above), he argues that we're actually ignoring one of the less intuitive but more common journeys. For every Tiger Woods, there are many Roger Federers. For every success story that hyperspecialized at an early age, there are countless examples of dilettantes who dabbled -- and perhaps struggled -- across different fields, only to find their true passion later in life. And so while it may seem like they're not making progress, or even falling behind in the short term, this may not be the case in the long term.

All of this reminded me of a post I wrote early last year about finding meaning in life and business. In it, I cited an article from New York Times Magazine recounting the outcomes of Harvard Business School graduates -- some of which went on to be happy and wildly successful, and some of which ended up miserable after school. The takeaway here was that non-linear paths, experimentation, and a bit of struggle along the way, is nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, it may be exactly what is needed in order to prepare for today's increasingly complex and wicked world.

Management guru Clayton M. Christensen died this week. Sadly, he was only 67 (leukaemia). A professor at Harvard Business School, Christensen was best known for probably two things: His work on disruptive innovation and his teachings on how to live a more fulfilling life. If you've read anything on innovation and disruption, I am sure you've come across the work of Christensen. He had a way of explaining things by reframing them. Here is a short video about the "job" of a McDonald's milkshake. And here is another one where he explains the cycle of disruptive innovations, sustaining innovations, and efficiency innovations. Both videos are worth watching.

I started my undergraduate degree as a computer science and physics student. But despite my love of technology (and physics, incidentally), I quickly realized that I didn't want to end up as a software developer. I was interested in so many other things: art, design, business, real estate, entrepreneurship, cities, and so on. And at the time, I was struggling to remain focused on writing code.

So by the middle of my second year, I decided to drop every single one of my classes and construct my own program until I figured out what I truly wanted to major in. My course schedule ended up spanning everything from the urbanization of ancient cities to the philosophy of aesthetics. It was a pretty great program if you ask me. But others wondered what I was doing.

I did, however, already have leanings toward architecture. It felt like the perfect combination of art and science. And so while enrolled in my made up program, I started exploring the possibility of transferring schools and switching majors. Around this time I also started meeting with architects to try and learn more about the profession and see if this is something that I really wanted to pursue.

I'll never forget this one lunch. The architect I met with -- who will, of course, remain nameless -- told me very clearly: "You should do anything besides architecture. If you like drawing become an animator. If you like design, do graphic design. Just don't become an architect." Naturally, I came out of that lunch and decided to spend the next seven years getting two degrees in architecture.

And even though I never became a licensed architect, and almost certainly never will, I would do it all over again given the option. I loved the journey and it is this circuitous journey that led me to where I am today, which is in a highly fulfilling career in real estate. I create new things and those things have the opportunity to improve people's everyday lives. I'm grateful for that. But the path was anything but clear at the time.

I am telling all of you this story because I was reminded of it when I read this fantastic article by Charles Duhigg called, Wealthy, Successful and Miserable. It is the story of how Charles, a Harvard Business School graduate, discovered that -- despite obtaining boatloads of financial success -- many of his classmates actually ended up miserable after school.

Sure, we all need and deserve basic financial security. And when we don't have it, money can really buy a great deal of happiness. But there's lots of research out there, some of which I have written about before, that suggests that happiness quickly plateaus once our basic needs are met.

As soon as we're no longer worried about money, we actually crave other things from our paychecks. We want it to also be a source of purpose and meaning. To give one concrete example, the article cites a study about a set of enthusiastic and high performing janitors in a large hospital. What was ultimately found was that they saw their jobs not just as cleaning, but as a kind of healing for the patients. They had purpose.

But what I found most interesting about the article was the discovery that finding happiness in life and business might require, or be aided by, a bit of struggle along the way:

And many of them had something in common: They tended to be the also-rans of the class, the ones who failed to get the jobs they wanted when they graduated. They had been passed over by McKinsey & Company and Google, Goldman Sachs and Apple, the big venture-capital firms and prestigious investment houses. Instead, they were forced to scramble for work — and thus to grapple, earlier in their careers, with the trade-offs that life inevitably demands. These late bloomers seemed to have learned the lessons about workplace meaning preached by people like Barry Schwartz. It wasn’t that their workplaces were enlightened or (as far as I could tell) that H.B.S. had taught them anything special. Rather, they had learned from their own setbacks. And often they wound up richer, more powerful and more content than everyone else.

We are, of course, talking about the "also-rans" at Harvard Business School. They're no slouches struggling to find work. But I don't think that negates the point being made here. It can be easy to get caught up doing what we think we ought to be doing when in reality we should be finding meaning in something we hopefully love doing.