Remember Ferris Bueller.

John Hughes. How did he do it?

We all know him. We all love him.

Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?

This iconic 80s flick showed last night at the local vintage theater here in Sacramento. I had planned to go and see it for it’s one-night showing months ago, but this particular Monday night I was beat.

I woke up early to get a leg up on work, went to my day job, checked in on a friend’s pets, rushed home for a meeting, and had about ten minutes to change before we headed out the door.

It was a nonstop day and while I loved the idea of ending it kicked back with a beer and watching a movie, I’m not going to lie: I felt like my mind was still at work brainstorming on upcoming projects and sifting through tasks.

I sat down in my seat exhausted. On top of the stress of the day, I was anxious that I was spending precious time enjoying a movie I’ve already seen when I should be back at home at my desk chipping away at work.

It was too late. The lights dimmed, credits rolled, and here came the line that delivers the crux of the whole film:

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Direct hit between the eyes.

How much of that Monday had passed me by as I was overanalyzing my workload or rushing through tasks trying to get as much done as possible? How much life was I missing because I was barely giving myself enough mental permission to even stop and enjoy a movie with a friend?

In this viewing, I related more to Cameron, Ferris’ wound-up fearful best friend, than I ever before. Cameron serves as an entertaining contrast to rule-bender Ferris Bueller. He’s constantly trying to talk Ferris out of his wild plans, mitigate risk, and opt out of the whole day.

While the movie centers on Bueller, Cameron experiences the most powerful character arc of anyone in the film.

After being tormented with anxiety all day over getting in trouble, Cameron takes a stand with the line:

By the end of the movie, Cameron finally accepts the task of facing his fear—something that had kept him from enjoying every event of the day.

Similarly, I wonder how much my fear of not doing enough or doing things well enough prevents me from embracing the life happening around me.

I don’t want to come to the end of my life with just years of autopilot or striving to succeed to my name.

I want to remember vibrant moments where I embraced entirely, I partook fully, I looked people in the eye and really saw them. I want to remember moments of being affected by art and music and friendships.

I want to “stop and look around” like Bueller encourages. After all, I’d hate to live my share of life tragically missing the point.