On dying with zero (part 1 of 2)
Alt title: I'm tired of repeating the same soapbox to all my friends about Die With Zero, so I'm writing it out for once and for all
For those of you who’ve chatted with me recently, you’ve likely already been subjected to my passionate spiel about Die With Zero. For the rest of you, here it is in written form in two parts :)
This all started a few weeks ago when I was describing my philosophy on life and money to a new friend who immediately said it sounded like I was describing the concept from Bill Perkins’ book. I went to borrow the book from the library, only to discover that I already had a copy of it on my Kindle from ages ago. (Of course I did.)
As with a lot of books in this genre, Die With Zero is a bit repetitive at times. Here are the key quotes that encapsulate the book for me:
“[A lot of people] just keep earning and earning, trying to maximize their wealth without giving nearly as much thought to maximizing what they get out of that wealth—including what they can give to their children, their friends, and the larger society now, instead of waiting until they die.”
“Once you’re in the habit of working for money to live, the thrill of making money exceeds the thrill of actually living.”
“Life energy is all the hours that you’re alive to do things—and whenever you work, you spend some of that finite life energy.”
“[For] every additional day you spend working, you sacrifice an equivalent amount of free time, and during that time your health gradually declines, too.”
“[To] increase your overall lifetime fulfillment, it’s important to have each experience at the right age.”
“What I am an advocate for is deciding what makes you happy and then converting your money into the experiences you choose.”
“[Think] about your life in a more purposeful, deliberate manner, instead of simply doing things as you and others have always done them.”
“Don’t let difficulty dissuade you from living your best life!”
At the end of the day, a lot of this concept boils down to the opportunity costs between free time, money, and health/physical ability. It’s very rare that these three factors ever line up to create an “optimal” time in life – whether it’s for a break from work, starting a new risky venture, starting a family, retiring, or something else. Naturally, these are tradeoffs I’ve thought about over the past few years and even more so recently, while on my gap year.
My three-part mindset shift
The parts of the book that resonated the most with me were less around finances and more around a three-part mindset shift that I want to embrace:
Recognize that each chapter in life is finite. Define these chapters and prioritize what to do in each chapter accordingly.
Unlearn habits that are associated with scarcity mindset. Think about how my dollar goes furthest in each chapter of life and spend bravely.
Figure out what I actually value. Live my life for me and not for anyone else.
Inevitably, as I delve into each of these shifts, it might start to sound like financial advice, which is not what I am here to provide.
Financial advice is gnarly.
And let me be the first to say: I can’t tell you what you should be doing with your money or how much money is “enough.” I personally wouldn’t believe anyone who tried to give me the answer to either of these questions.
My goal is to focus on the bigger picture.
I will share examples from my own reflection, which are unlikely to be the right answer for anyone else. And I’m also going to start by acknowledging the financial privilege I have: I graduated debt free from college thanks to very generous financial aid, I have savings in the bank from the beginning of my career, and I have been able to share my living costs with my husband for many, many years. Everyone’s life charts a unique course, and if your experience sounds more like mine, then perhaps some things will resonate more. If your experience diverges quite a bit, then my hope is that while the examples may not resonate, the underlying thought process is still helpful.
1: Recognize that each chapter in life is finite. Define these chapters and prioritize what to do in each chapter accordingly.
Ever since age 13, I’ve viewed my life in chapters. I knew that at the end of high school, I’d have four years in college. As I got through college, I figured out that after graduation, I wanted to live in San Francisco for a few years. As my time in San Francisco played out, the pandemic became a natural bookend once again. My job transition from consulting to startup life coincided with leaving San Francisco and becoming nomadic for a while, opening yet another chapter. Moving to New York became the next chapter, as I flowed into my adult gap year.
As I look ahead, the next few chapters do not feel as clearly defined. In order to be deliberate, so that I make the most of each chapter, I sat down and mapped out the next few chapters of my life (making guesses to the best of my knowledge). This time, I used specific age ranges for each bucket, rather than specific jobs or where I’ll be living. In each of these chapters, I factored in my expected health and physical wellbeing as well as my likely employment and projected income in order to figure out what I will care more or less about relative to today.
Here are a few examples: Time with family is only becoming more and more important. Taking care of my physical wellbeing is also increasing in significance, as I can’t quite get away with slacking on exercise or eating unhealthily for long stretches of time. As I took note of these shifts, I also thought about ways in which I might re-allocate more of my budget towards these domains. Prioritizing trips with family or spending guiltlessly on expensive workout classes were just some of the ideas that came to mind.
It’s also important to note that as I think about life in these finite chapters, I have gotten much better about not delaying things that I want to do. For example, going to loud concerts or going out drinking with friends are activities that I think will be most enjoyable now versus in a few years. Remembering that this experience will mean so much more to me now than in three years is deeply motivating and comforting when I’m faced with some sort of barrier to entry, whether it’s my own laziness to plan or research or a daunting price tag.
And, of course, the most pertinent example of a finite chapter in life is my adult gap year. Around six months in, I started to realize that although I love the freedom of waking up and not feeling any obligations to work, this feeling would soon fade into a new normal and become something unexciting. I started to remind myself that the gap year is finite and that each day I’m “free” is precious. It helped me push past the guilt of not working when I realized that I needed to fully absorb my freedom and make the most of each free day. If I were on this gap year indefinitely, the constant reminder to be grateful for each day and each opportunity wouldn’t exist. Once I start a new job, the same thinking will apply – I’m unlikely to have that job forever, and each day will present a unique opportunity to learn and grow for which I should be grateful.
Tl;dr
I’ve always believed in balancing making money and spending money in order to maximize for life experiences. Reading Die With Zero helped me put some words around my personal philosophy of using money to make the most out of my life, rather than centering my life around making money. In today’s newsletter, I share key quotes from the book (consider it my synopsis of the book in quotes) and my the first of my three learnings around how to shift my mindset in life. In my next newsletter, I’ll dive into the other two learnings.
A loosely related learning for me has been trying to consider non-functional benefits when weighing the value of an experience (or at least, less obvious functional benefits). The classic example is whether spending $5 on a coffee at my local coffee shop is worth it when I can make it at home for under $1. My answer is that spending $5 on a coffee to go at a random Starbucks or Tim Hortons is probably not worth it (for me), but that spending $5 at the coffee shop on my street and sitting in is worth it. Benefits I get beyond just the coffee include the relationship I have with the barista, who knows me by name; the sense of place and connectedness to my community; the ambience which helps me to focus and calms me and is a nice break from my home; the variety in my day it creates; contributing to the sustenance of an independent business that I think enhances the neighbourhood I live in; the opportunity to people-watch that I don't get at home, etc.
When I consider those benefits, the $5 becomes a far better value than it might initially appear. I think being excessively miserly ("what is the cheapest away to achieve 1 core benefit of a coffee") is often short-sighted.