Thought I'm Wrestling With: Standing Room Only
Rethinking the Hustle: What If Saying Yes Builds the Life You Want?
After watching Tim McGraw’s powerful performance in 1883, I found myself diving into his music catalog. His song “Standing Room Only” quickly landed in my liked songs playlist — and I didn’t yet realize how deeply it would speak to me.
If anyone asks why I love country music, I always tell them it’s the storytelling. The music teleports me into a new world where I get to live out different life experiences — ones I haven’t had, and maybe never will. One can be so profoundly moved in a matter of minutes. That’s why I love it.
Ironically, I rarely start with lyrics. I listen for melody and vibe — an unnamed, intuitive standard my sister teases me about. But this one passed the test.
One evening I went over to Genius lyrics, fired up the song, and read along as it played:
“…Live a life, so when I die there’s standing room only, standing room only.”
Goosebumps.
One of the first articles I wrote on TCM was titled Eulogy Qualities — an ode to the idea that success isn’t measured by money, status, or achievements. I wrote it as a reminder to myself not to lose sight of what really matters. Not to have a funeral where people simply list the accolades on your life’s résumé — but one where they celebrate the ways you made their lives richer.
That’s why the lyrics hit me so hard. McGraw paints the picture of a man living a life so large that, at his funeral, there aren’t enough seats for everyone. The service is so well attended, all that’s left is standing room.
“People won’t remember what you said, but they’ll remember how you made them feel.”
“Standing Room Only” is about a man looking in the mirror after covering some ground in life — knowing he still has more to go — and being honest with himself about what he truly wants, and the actions that will grant him peace when it’s all said and done.
There’s a line in the second verse that stopped me in my tracks:
“I wanna learn how to say a lot more yes and a lot less no.”
Reading those words on a screen doesn’t do justice to the emotion and tone in which McGraw delivers them. I encourage you to take three minutes to hear it for yourself.
Because when you do, there’s this air of resonance. Your conscience nods along quietly, knowing how true it is. An inner voice admits that the way you’re currently living might just lead to more regrets than you’re prepared to carry.
So what exactly am I wrestling with?
Tim McGraw — and my gut — are begging me to say yes more. But nearly every piece of wisdom I’ve absorbed about boundaries, fulfillment, and long-term health tells me the opposite.
There’s a strong coalition in the self-help space arguing for the value of saying no.
Greg McKeown’s Essentialism makes a compelling case for minimizing nonessential commitments in favor of living with clarity and intention. It’s about focus, not frenzy.
Warren Buffett is famous for his “25–5 Rule”: list your top 25 goals, circle the five most important — and avoid the remaining 20 at all costs. Not because they don’t matter, but because they distract you from what does. They are, as he puts it, seductive diversions.
Oliver Burkeman, in Four Thousand Weeks and Meditation for Mortals, argues that a meaningful life is built not on more, but on less. Saying no, he says, is what makes room for depth — and protects us from wasting our one wild and precious life.
Even I have preached the wisdom of adopting an Eastern mindset — of stripping away the unnecessary to uncover the essential. Removing layers, not collecting trophies.
So why, then, do I still feel swayed by Tim McGraw’s words? Why does my gut say the default setting for a good life should be yes?
Because the data paints a sobering picture. We’re more disconnected than ever. More time on screens. More loneliness. More isolation.
Does saying no help solve any of that?
If a friend asks you to grab a drink mid-week, what should you say?
If your boss asks you to help onboard a teammate during an already busy week, what elevates your leadership?
Are we really so swamped and stretched that saying yes will break the camel’s back?
We spend nearly 9 hours a day on screens. I look at that and wonder: maybe I’ve been delusional to think that saying no, in the context of this lifestyle, somehow leads to a healthier, more fulfilled life.
George Mack describes his “Luck Razor”: if stuck between two equal options, pick the one that feels more likely to generate luck. He once chose drinks with a stranger over staying in with Netflix — and later called it “the highest ROI decision I’ve ever made.”
Sure — essentialism, boundaries, and protected time help prevent burnout. But do they get you to a Standing Room Only life?
Will people remember you for saying no — or for showing up when you had every reason not to?
An old friend once told me, “You’ll never look back on your deathbed and say, ‘Damn, I wish I got more sleep.’” I was notorious for prioritizing my 8 hours, always defending it with: “I’ll get more done. I’ll feel better. I’ll be happier.”
But part of me knew he was right. He wasn’t telling me not to sleep. He was telling me: don’t fixate so much on the future that you forget the present is all you ever have.
I don’t think I’ll ever perfect the dichotomy of yes and no.
But I do know this — Standing Room Only will be my final arbiter when I’m confronted with a choice.
So maybe the question isn’t Should I say yes or no?
Maybe it’s: Which choice adds more people to the room when it’s all said and done?
Because a Standing Room Only life is built by showing up when it matters most.
What are your thoughts?