By Dr. David Phelps
The Farm Boy and the Rocket Man
Bernie Taupin grew up on a farm in Lincolnshire, England, in a house without electricity. They used lanterns. That was the life he knew.
When he was five, his father became the farm manager, and the family moved into a house with electric lights.
To Bernie, this was living.
Through his mother, Bernie developed a love for poetry.
He began to write.
The words that flowed from his heart, through his fingers, to the pages were electric.
Meanwhile, another young man named Reggie was playing piano in a blues band, working the pubs around London.
Reggie could write music. But he needed somebody who could write the lyrics.
A music publisher brought the two together. Bernie had the poems. Reggie had the music. Neither had quite what he needed on his own.
Reggie became Elton John.
One of their early hits was “Your Song.” The hits kept coming, and with them a life neither young man could have imagined.
Elton went out on tour, Bernie went along.
Elton was the performer. The stage, the costumes, the crowds. Captain Fantastic.
Bernie was still a farm boy.
He loved writing. He loved seeing Elton take those words and turn them into something people loved. But somewhere along the way, he began to question all the glitz and glamour.
In 1973, they released “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”
I was seventeen, starting my senior year in high school. I thought it was an amazing song. I didn’t really understand what it meant.
Years later, when I started listening more closely, it made a lot of sense.
When are you gonna come down?
When are you going to land?
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened to my old man
You know you can't hold me forever
I didn't sign up with you
I'm not a present for your friends to open
This boy's too young to be singin' the blues.
Bernie was sending a message to Elton.
Here’s how I hear Bernie’s words now: I’m a farm boy. Not a showman.
He still wanted to write. He still wanted his words put to music. He just didn’t need to go along for the whole ride.
They separated for a time, then came back together. The partnership continued, with each living more on his own terms.
People say, You’re doing so well. Keep going. Do more.
And it feels good. I understand that.
But eventually, you may find yourself asking: Can I keep doing the work I love on terms that fit the life I want?
For me, the yellow brick road represents the expectations of society and the defined path to “success”.
For years, I assumed that staying on that road was the responsible thing to do. I hadn’t considered when it might be time to take another.
The Detour I Didn’t Choose
Coming out of Baylor, I had followed the road laid out for me. Build a practice, provide good service, take care of my family, and keep getting better.
After twenty-one years in dentistry, things were going well.
Then Jenna developed liver failure at twelve, after already enduring leukemia and epilepsy.
I had spent much of my life learning how to solve harder problems. More education, more training, more experience.
But I couldn’t solve this one.
Sitting in the hospital while Jenna recovered from her transplant, I made the decision to sell my practice.
I wanted time with my daughter. I didn’t know how much time we might have.
The income I had built outside the practice gave me the ability to make that choice.
That experience still shapes how I think about Freedom.
By God’s grace, Jenna survived and thrived. And that change opened up a life I hadn’t known how to imagine.
When a Road Has Finished Its Assignment
Looking back, I’m grateful for my years in dentistry.
They developed my skills, supported my family, and helped create the resources that gave me choices.
But staying on it would have cost me something I wanted more.
I think we sometimes struggle to recognize that moment because we’re waiting for a business reason to change. Declining revenue. Exhaustion. An offer we can’t refuse.
A successful practice can make the decision harder. Why would you change something that’s working?
But is it really working?
Is it still giving you the life you want today?
That’s what I hear in Bernie’s story now. The possibility of continuing to create while choosing a life that fits you.
There are several ways forward once you give yourself permission to consider them.
What is Beyond Your Yellow Brick Road?
We can get so focused on reaching the destination that we postpone enjoying what we’ve gained on the journey.
I’ve written about that pull in Success Has Its Own Gravity.
Your children are only six and twelve once. Your health needs attention while you still feel well. Relationships need time before you finally have an open calendar.
You can’t forgo spending time at forty and withdraw it at sixty-five.
So take a dividend along the way.
Start with something specific you want your success to support over the next year. Talk it through with your spouse. Then look at what would have to change to make room for it.
That is how becoming exit-optional begins to take shape.
You have experience and resources now that you didn’t have when you started.
What new life lies beyond the yellow brick road for you?
— Dr. David Phelps
