#222

You’ve probably read or heard this phrase at the bottom of every investment disclaimer:

“Past performance is not an indicator of future performance.”

It’s designed to protect investors - a polite reminder that just because something has gone well (or badly) before doesn’t guarantee it’ll do the same again.

But what if we borrowed that phrase for ourselves?

What if it wasn’t just a disclaimer, but permission?

Because too often, our own past performance - our stories, habits, fears, or even our proudest achievements - quietly become our own performance forecast.

We mistake what has been for what will always be.

We carry old report cards - literal or emotional - as though they’re permanent truths:

“I’m not good at that.”

“I always procrastinate.”

“I never follow through.”

“I’ve never been confident in that space.”

“I’m not that kind of person.”

But what if you didn’t have to invest in the same story again?

What if you took that simple line - past performance is not an indicator of future performance - and let it wedge open a little gap of permission?

Permission to upgrade your narrative.

Permission to start anew.

Permission to believe that the next version of you isn’t bound by the last one.

You’re not permanent.

Your personality isn’t fixed.

Your past doesn’t master your future.

The market of you, isn’t closed.

You don’t need to throw everything out - just extend the story.

Because the market of who you can become, is always open for reinvestment.

So this week, try taking the disclaimer personally:

Past performance is not an indicator of future performance.

It’s not just a warning.

It’s an invitation.

A whisper that says you can begin anew - as often as you need to.

Reflection whispers:

> As a leader, where are you still being defined by the version of you that first took the job?

> As a parent, what past pattern or story might you want to reinvest differently in with your kids?

> As a partner or friend, where have you unconsciously locked yourself into a role that no longer serves either of you?

> As a human being, what old stories about your limits or worth have become false indicators of future performance?

> In which role might you allow yourself a clean slate - even a small one - to test a new version of you?

> If your next chapter had its own prospectus, what would you want potential “investors” (including you) to see?

> What identity would you like to quietly sunset… and what new one might you list for public offering?