First Things First

I was in the first lecture of an intro-to-psych elective in College and the professor walks in carrying a big-ole glass jar and a heavy looking backpack. She purposefully put the jar in the middle of the table and unloaded the contents of her backpack around it. Out came a few bags of stones of various sizes, a big bag of sand, and a bottle of red wine.

She took the bag of the largest stones, baseball-sized things, poured them into the jar until they started spilling over, and held the jar up to the class. “Is the jar full?” She asked. General murmurings showed that we obviously felt it was full.

She took a bag of smaller pebbles, pea-sized, and started pouring them into the jar. They bounced around, filling in all the spaces between the larger rocks, until they too started pouring out of the top. She held the jar up again and asked, “is the jar full?” As college students, our intellectual arrogance did not lend well to being tricked in this way, but we could not help but agree that yes, the jar was full.

She took the bag of fine sand and again poured it in the top of the jar. The sand naturally fell through all the small spaces that were still left between even the smaller pebbles. After a little agitation the sand found even the nookiest crannies and the jar was definitely, definitely full. She held it up again and sa- “Yes all right we get it it’s full dammit,” we all exploded in angry unison.

Not done yet - she opened the bottle of wine and poured it into the jar. It poured out entirely, without a drop being spilled.

“THIS JAR IS YOUR LIFE,” she said. “The big stones represent those things that are most important in your life; your family, your friends, your health. These are the things that, if you had nothing else, your life would be full.”

“The small stones are those things in life that are nice to have, but inessential. Perhaps a challenging career or exciting hobbies. These things make your life ‘full-er.’”

“The sand is those things that we never need, but which we perhaps feel add gloss to life. Fast cars, fancy vacations, second homes, big TVs, that sort of thing.”

“What I want you to understand,” she said, “is that these things must go into your life in this order. Much as if I put the sand in first, then the pebbles, then the rocks, there would not be enough space for the rocks and these would fall out, so it is with your life. If you prioritise the small things, then you will not have space for the big things. If you place too great an importance on the irrelevances, then the fundamentals will suffer.”

The reverent silence was broken by a question from the back of the audience. “What about the wine?”

“Ah! She said, with a smile. “Another critical lesson indeed. I want you to know, that no matter how full you feel your life is, you always have room for a bottle of wine with friends.”

The Point of it All

I love this story and am aware it is widely circulated in many different contexts. The first time I heard it I got a real ‘wow’ moment out of both the punchlines. It is a perfect visual depiction of a complex problem, which is how do we go about setting priorities and boundaries in our lives? Well - we put what’s important in first, of course! I think it is also a great story about antidotes to fixation - recognising that you have time and space for wine every once in a while can be an important lesson too.

It’s a great story for leading on things like Town Hall meetings, or for breaking the ice in coaching sessions or one-to-ones. The subject matter can also be adapted for different contexts - maybe the jar is not your life, maybe it’s your career? In that case, the tiers are probably more like ‘first have a purpose or a cause you believe in, then focus on progression and development in that environment, and worry about pay, fancy assignments or the work trips last.’ Perhaps it is just about delivery of a single project? The tiers might be those things that ensure delivery, then sticking rigidly to timelines and budgets, and then about ensuring who gets credit?

It is a versatile tale.

And it can, of course, be served with or without wine as you wish.