Pulling Apart vs. Bringing Together

I love business travel. Since my first opportunity to travel for work (Denver in August 2005), I've loved it. In the front half of my career, the travel was primarily domestic (NYC leads the way with 24 trips, followed by South Florida with nine, and Los Angeles with eight). In the last eight years, it's been more international (mainly Middle East and SE Asia).

There's so much to love about travel, business or otherwise. Seeing new sights, experiencing different cultures, meeting unique people, staying in interesting hotels, and learning something new about yourself. I always love the trips.

Along the way, I learned a few particular people don't always love the trips: two little boys. They don't ask much of me.....just 100% of my attention 100% of the time. No big deal....haha!!

Business travel always felt like a positive for me.....until one particular trip. It was September 2018. I was throwing the final few items in my bag before heading to the airport. I was flying to the Middle East and would be gone for nine days. Though Sarah was supportive of this trip, I could see the stress and nervousness in her eyes. Not because I was heading to the Middle East, but rather the stress of caring for twin two-year-olds for more than a week without me being around. To top off the moment, this particular day was Finn and Pax's second birthday....ouch!

I've been mindful and intentional about my trips since that experience. I still enjoy them as much as ever, but it's always hard to leave the family. After some of these experiences, I realized a shift needed to happen. Luckily (or unluckily) for me, two consecutive events transformed my relationship with business travel: I left my prior career, and COVID shut down our world.

As my new career started to grow and the world opened back up, I finally had my opportunity to put my money where my mouth was. If business travel had historically pulled our family apart, was there a way to use the same business travel to bring it together? It was an interesting experiment, but I was up for the challenge.

We tested this idea by bringing the entire family to Los Angeles earlier in the summer. Not only were we able to create some amazing memories (Disney, beach, food, more beach), but they were also present for some of my work. Sarah attended one of my talks and also watched me deliver a sermon at a church.

This week, we're trying it again. I'm spending the next eight days with a client in Midland, TX. Instead of being absent from my family for the home stretch leading up to school starting, we're using this opportunity for one last family summer adventure.

I don't know how this experiment will play out in the long run, but I'm excited to find out. I hope it provides meaningful work, tons of new memories, and brings us all together in powerful new ways.

Value and Context, Context and Value

I'm particularly fond of one specific budgeting app. Well, let me clarify. They have two versions: one free and one paid. I'm fond of the paid version and severely dislike the free version. The paid version costs $80/year.

Whenever I meet with a new client interested in using an app or software for their budgeting, I highly recommend the paid version. Considering they are already paying me to coach them, the last thing they want to do is spend another $80/year on an app. I totally get it! However, I always add, "it will be the best $80 you ever spend."

It's not that I'm trying to get my client to spend money. Rather, I know how much value there is for their $80 investment. Going the premium version route will easily save them 18 hours per year (1.5 hours per month). More importantly, however, going the free route will likely end up with them giving up and quitting......which is a far worse outcome.

This brings me to the idea of value. If this $80 investment will save 18 hours per year, that works out to $4.44/hour. Is your time worth less than $5/hour? I didn't think so! Further, if this $80 investment could possibly be the make or break between you thriving financially and quitting in disgust, is it worth the investment? Ab-so-freaking-lutely! Put that way, it truly may be the best $80 you ever spend.

Whenever we spend money, we shouldn't ask ourselves if we can afford it. We shouldn't ask ourselves if the price is low or high. We shouldn't ask ourselves if it's a need or a want. Those are fine questions to ask. The primary question we need to ask ourselves is how much value we are getting for the cost. If we're getting more value than the cost, it's probably worth the investment. If we're getting less value, probably not.

But value is in the eyes of the beholder. We all perceive value differently, and value can also be contextual. Here's an example. You walk into a convenience store and see an array of bottled water products on the shelf. Some cost $.99, but another costs $5. The perceived value of that $5 water probably doesn't feel so great.

Later that day, you're watching your favorite baseball team at the ballpark. The sun is shining, it's 90 degrees out, and you're parched. That same $5 bottle of water suddenly becomes the best $5 you'll spend all day. The value changes when the context changes.

Back to the budgeting example. If someone is casually interested in budgeting but isn't really committed to making changes in their life, that $80 investment is like throwing money in the trash. On the other hand, if they are focused, determined, and ready to kick butt, that $80 investment may be the gateway to life change.

Context matters. Seek value.

The Simplicity of Simple

I was recently sitting in a coaching meeting with a couple when the wife made a proclamation about her husband. "It changed him. I've never seen him less stressed about spending money." Wow, what was "it?" What's the magical secret that caused such a dramatic shift in this man?

Truth is, it's something simple. The best, most impactful ideas usually are. Set up a separate savings account specifically for travel. Call it "travel fund." Budget money for travel each month. Physically move said money into the travel fund. Travel. Feel zero guilt. I told you it was simple! It's literally the simplest idea in the world, yet oh so powerful. When we set aside money for a specific use and clearly name it, we're able to let go of the guilt. Why? Because that's what the money was supposed to be used for. There's no second-guessing, asking, "Can I afford it?", or playing the there's-a-more-responsible-thing-to-do-with-this-money game. It's the simplicity of simple.

The entire financial industry endeavors to take simple things and make them complicated. It's a great way to justify your existence and create everlasting demand for your products/services. Meanwhile, I firmly believe we should be doing the opposite: making complicated things simple. Or better yet, making simple things simpler.

This is the key to true literacy and widespread adoption in any field. If we pursue the art of simple, we can better connect with those we wish to serve. Not because we think people aren't smart enough, but because they deserve to have it delivered in the most effective and efficient means possible. Whenever people tell me I make things too simple, I say, "thank you."

If you're struggling with finances, simplify. Less (or no) credit cards, combined finances with your spouse, streamlined processes, automated payments/transfers, consolidated investment accounts, rounding transactions instead of obsessing about every penny (this one makes accountants sweat), and a cushion in your checking account so you don't have to freak out about the house payment coming out before the paycheck is deposited. Simple tweaks, powerful results.

It's the simplicity of simple. Here's my challenge for you today. Find one area in your financial life that you can simplify. Just one. One tweak or modification that will make it easier, quicker, or more enjoyable to manage your finances. Have an awesome and simple day!

One Bite at a Time

In November 2008, on the heels of just finding out we would soon be forced to move to a new state because of my job situation, my new fiancee (of three days) and I were sitting with $236,000 of debt and a whole lot of stress. To clarify, she had $0 of debt and I had $236,000. Beautiful, I know. Thus began a journey that would forever change our lives.

We didn't know how to pay off $236,000 of debt, so we did the only thing we could think of. We paid off what we could this month. Then we did the same thing next month. Then again the following month. Some months we paid off a ton, while in others, it was far less. But we were committed to making progress.

It reminds me of a famous quote from Desmond Tutu. "There is only one way to eat an elephant: one bite at a time." We couldn't pay off $236,000 in one swoop, so we just took one bite at a time. 4.5 years later, the debt was gone. That final payment happened more than 11 years ago, and that achievement still boggles my mind.

Today, we published the 250th episode of the Meaning Over Money Podcast. That's 71 hours of content, free to the world, which will be archived and available online forever. Wow! Reflecting on that journey feels a lot like my debt payoff story. It's hard to fathom how we did it, but it was really just one bite at a time. Two episodes per week, every week, without fail, for nearly 2.5 years. We've never missed an episode. Every Monday and Wednesday since March 2021.

We didn't just wake up one day and decide to produce 71 hours of content. Rather, we woke up and produced 14 minutes of content, then 18 minutes, then 15 minutes, then 19 minutes. Over and over and over. We didn't do anything special. We just had a very clear mission: record 10-20 minutes of concise, relevant, engaging, and useful content for the people we wished to serve.

This is the power Desmond Tutu's words. We can accomplish anything, no matter the scale, if we simply take one bite at a time. It won't happen overnight, but luckily it doesn't have to. I hope you take your bite today!

The Power of (Actually) Shared Experiences

One of my favorite past times is sharing a meal with friends: good company, good drinks, good food, and good conversation. When I look back on some of my favorite memories, it usually revolves around a shared meal. However, there's one problem. In the U.S., we don't actually share in the dining experience. You enjoy your meal, Mary enjoys her meal, Bob enjoys his meal, and I enjoy my meal. We have an experience together, but it's not a truly shared experience. We may be sitting at the same table, but depending on our specific order, we're each having a unique and siloed experience.

This has always bugged me, especially when order regret sets in. You know what I'm talking about. The server brings the dishes out and delicately places each one in front of the person who ordered it. You look at yours, then at your neighbor's, and realize you wish you ordered what they did.....it's the worst feeling!

All this dining angst came to a head when I made my first trip to Asia in January 2016. Sarah and I were invited to fly across the world so I could interview for a board position. Our first night rolls around, and it's time for dinner. I'm eagerly anticipating this meal, as I love unique food, and it's my first time eating Asian food in Asia. I'm totally geeking out, while at the same time nervous. What will I order? What if I make the wrong choice? What if I accidentally order something I don't like? There are so many things to eat....how do I pick just one? I'm weird, I know.

But as we get settled into our seats and it's time to order, something weird happens. My friend Rob just started ordering. He asks if anyone wants anything in particular, then continues to order more. A while later, food starts coming out. The plates, platters, and bowls are haphazardly set wherever there is space to house it. Then, the good part. Everyone starts serving themselves from each of them. You know, like you do at home with your family. You know, a truly shared experience. It was an amazingly fun experience. I tried maybe 15 different dishes that night, and each person at the table also experienced those same 15 dishes. It was a shared dining experience we don't often get here in the States.

An example of a truly shared experience meal. Notice the massive lazy suzan to efficiently share with each other. This picture makes me hungry!

From that point on, it changed how Sarah and I experience food when we go out to eat. She orders something, and I order something, then we share. As our kids have grown, we've expanded that experience. Each person will choose a menu item, and we request the servers to set all of them in the center and provide some extra plates. Then, we have our fun shared experience.

It's been a beautiful shift for our family. It adds an entirely new dynamic, excitement, and bonding. There's so much meaning in shared experiences, and I encourage everyone to seek them out whenever possible.

The Case Against (Hosting) Garage Sales

I love garage sales. Before having kids, I would regularly hit the local neighborhoods on Saturday mornings, looking for an exciting score. It felt like a modern-day treasure hunt. Some days I would strike out, and others, I would hit the jackpot! 

With that context in mind, I'm against hosting garage sales. High cost, low reward, and most importantly, a giant missed opportunity. I'll share a brief story to illustrate why I land where I land. Many years ago, I found out via Facebook that my obviously wealthy friends were hosting a garage sale. Knowing what I know about their careers, they easily combined for $500,000 of annual income (and have the house and cars to match that perception). Out of pure curiosity, I showed up at the garage sale. Disorienting doesn't even begin to describe the feeling I had by combing through $5 skillets and $6 bedsheets while standing in the driveway of an $600,000 house (for my non-Midwest friends, that's a pretty nice house). 

First, I don't think they are evil or doing something unethical. It's their life and they get to do whatever they want. However, I believe they whiffed on one of the greatest giving opportunities of their lives. Tens of thousands of dollars of material goods were sold that day, for maybe a few hundred bucks. The alternative option was to bless others in significantly profound ways. That kitchen set? There's probably a single mom in their community that just left an abusive marriage that would be over the moon to receive that gift. Or the bedroom goods? They probably have some friends with a kid who just left the nest with few resources. The list can go on and on.

Sarah and I had this conversation relatively early in our marriage. We committed to never selling anything. Any time we part ways with something, it will be given away. It's not ours to begin with, after all. We get to benefit from it for a while, then share it with someone else can do the same. For more than a decade, that belief has carried through to our actions. My favorite example of this was in late 2019 when we sold our 4-bedroom house and downsized into a 2-bedroom townhome. We gave away nearly every material possession we had. 

• Our mower went to a former youth group kid who had just purchased his first home.

• We gave my beautiful office furniture to a local woman with terminal cancer. 

• Our kitchen table went to a close friend, and we regularly eat at that table when we visit them. 

• Tons of baby clothes and supplies went to former youth group kids and clients who were becoming first-time parents. 

We could have easily sold this stuff, but instead we got to be on the giving end of some special blessings. These are beautiful opportunities in front of each of us. We all have something to share, and I believe sharing is better than any price you could charge. 

Truth Bombs From Finn

Do you have a favorite meme? Is that even a thing? Can we have favorite memes like we have favorite albums or favorite movies? I'm making an executive decision by ruling that, yes, we can have a favorite meme. Ok, now that I've solidified that, I have a favorite meme.

It's a picture of Yoda that reads, "Once I became a parent, I understood the scene where Yoda gets so tired of answering Luke's questions that he just dies." So funny! I laugh at this every time I see it......I'm laughing as we speak.

Last night, I took the boys to watch one of my Christian rapper friends put on a local show. We had an absolute blast and the kids' eyes were opened to an entirely new art form. As we were leaving the event, I heard a very common phrase, "Hey Dad?" It was only the 3,342nd time I heard that phrase on that day.

"What's up, Finn?"

"You know all the times we spend together and the rides we take?

"Yeah, bud!"

"I have all those memories in my head and can dream about them any time I want. I could even think about them right now if I wanted."

I was floored! When I approached a stop sign, I whipped my phone out and hastily wrote down his quote. Wow! If you consume my content, you probably know I think/talk a lot about investing in memories. It's a constant theme in my value system and my coaching.

But out of the blue, my 6-year-old son drops a bomb on me, essentially summarizing in two sentences what I spend so much of my career trying to encourage in others. Memories are forever. Memories are powerful. They won't end up in a landfill. They revolve around special people. They don't necessarily cost anything. They latch onto us and influence who we become and what we do.

Memories merely require that we be present. I was exhausted last night. A part of me just wanted to stay home and lay low. That would have been easier. But I really wanted to support my friend, who I knew was excited for his show (he crushed it, by the way). I also knew my kids would love. Therefore, I chose to be present.

That's the weird part about memories. Sometimes, we plan, plan, and plan, hoping to create the most amazing experience. Then, something much smaller surprises us by being the memory that perseveres through time. To this day, the one memory my kids have about a particular week-long spring break trip is swimming with me in the hotel pool.

So all we can do is be present, be intentional, and let the chips fall how they may. When we do, we'll inevitably create powerful memories worth far more than anything money can buy. Or in the beautiful words of Finn, they will be in your head, and you can dream about them any time you want!!

It Doesn't Have to Break the Bank

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, TJ and I made our way to a Chicago Cubs game after our conference on Thursday night. We had the most wonderful time! It was quite spontaneous, as evidenced by our not deciding to go until 1PM the day of the game. That's what makes some of these memories so fun. While eating lunch, TJ suggested we buy tickets.....so we jumped on the Seat Geek app and bought tickets. Despite popular belief, creating memories doesn't have to cost an arm and a leg.

Do you remember those old Mastercard commercials where they listed out all the costs of a particular thing, then the last item's price was listed as "priceless?" That's what I thought of while we were at the game. Here's what my ad might look like:

Tickets to the game: $32

Parking: $15

Italian Beef: $11

Old Style Beer: $12

Lifelong Memories: Priceless

I paid $70 for an impulsive outing to create memories that I wlll surely carry with me for years to come. It was the easiest $70 I'll spend all month. I could play the "I could use that $70 for something more responsible" game, or the "but I don't need it" game, but no other use of that $70 would generate the return Thursday's night escapades did. Those memories truly are priceless!

That's the power of memories. Some memories are free, some are expensive, and some are just pretty dang affordable. They are often even sweeter when they are impulsive, as it adds a different dynamic to the situation.

What's an impulsive decision you recently made that resulted in a fun, priceless memory? I'd love to hear your stories!!!

Wrestling With Trust in a Shady Alley

Yesterday at lunch, TJ and I decided to buy tickets to last night's Chicago Cubs game. After the conference concluded, we headed straight toward Wrigleyville. The traffic was brutal, so what we believed would be plenty of time available before the game got squeezed. Once we arrived, we had a heck of a time finding parking. It was an absolute mess!

Then, we found our beacon of hope. A man was standing on the street with a sign that read, "Parking: $30." Just what we needed! He waved us down a shady-looking alley and eventually to a shady-looking garage. He pointed at the garage and said, "Just back it in here." TJ and I looked at each other, both nervous about what was happening. We apologized to the man and told him we would find alternate arrangements. As we headed back out of the alley, we recognized two things: 1) we were running out of time, and 2) maybe we just needed to trust him.

We put the car in reverse and headed back to the shady-looking garage in the shady-looking alley. We nervously parked the car and told him we changed our mind. He only accepted cash, but we only had $10 on us....far short of his $30 fee. "That's ok, you can just bring it when you come back!" Of course he's ok with us not paying him.....the parts he's about to strip from my car are worth several grand!

He said he wouldn't be around later in the night....he has to go to work. No big deal, however. "You can just put the money under this bucket when you leave," as he pointed to some construction materials near the front of the garage. Let me get this straight. We're leaving our car in a stranger's shady-looking garage, he doesn't care that we don't pay him right away, and he won't even be around when we return to ensure we actually do pay him? "I trust you guys. I hope you have fun at the game." Wow, he's definitely stealing our car.

Fast forward four hours. TJ and I had a memorable time together and were ready to deal with whatever consequences we had coming for us. How do you think the story ends?

My car is there, right where we left it. The man is nowhere to be found (as he foreshadowed). It's just us, my car, and this shady-looking garage in a now pitch-black shady-looking alley.

We didn't trust him, but he trusted us. He had no reason to trust us. He could have told us to leave. He could have forced our hand. But he didn't. He trusted. He showed us grace. We're glad that we (eventually) trusted him as well. We didn't have a pen/paper to write him a thank you note, so we threw in an extra $10 under the bucket as a gesture for his gesture.

That man taught us a valuable lesson. Trust. Grace. Generosity.

"What In the World Am I Doing?"

"What in the world am I doing?" These were the words spoken by a close friend who was feeling extraordinarily stressed by his work. It was a redundant question, but these words hit home for me. I, too, have these exact same moments. What in the world am I doing!?!?

He knows what he's doing, of course. He knows exactly what he's doing, and it's awesome. He's making a massive impact on this world, and his work provides him a ton of meaning along the way. This is the thing about work that matters. It's not necessarily fun. It can be, but only some of the time. Other parts of the work can be tremendously challenging. It can occasionally wreak havoc on us mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Not because the work is bad or unhealthy, but because work that matters is rarely easy. It forces us to push ourselves, take the road less traveled, and go against the grain. Living in discomfort, aggressively pursuing something we are called to do, and fighting through the many challenges just comes with the territory. It's hard, but so, so beautiful.

My friend went on to say that though he wishes he didn't feel this way, it's a sign that he's exactly where he needs to be. There is an alternate reality where he lives an easier, less stressful, more comfortable life. I know this, and he knows this. But never in a million years would he trade this for that alternate life. His "why" is too big, the stakes too high, and the impact potential too grand. Thus, he will persevere and the adventure will continue.

Perhaps I'm not making the best case for pursuing work that matters. It's far from perfect and often quite uncomfortable. On the flip side, I don't want to paint an unrealistically rosy picture of a fun-filled, easy-going, stress-free life. Context matters and candor is key.

But here's the promise I can make you: it's worth it. Work that matters is always worth it. If you've found it in your life, congratulations on being in rarified air. Don't ever take it for granted or let it go. If you haven't found it.....yet......the search is not over!

This Generation, Man!

Do you ever think about how doomed we are with this young generation coming up? Lazy, disinterested, entitled, and spoiled. They don't want to work, have no idea how the world works, and are too soft. Well, that's the narrative, anyway.

I couldn't disagree more. I think this cultural narrative of dragging our young generation through the mud is unfair at best, complete crap at worst. Every generation has bad eggs. I know you know some bad eggs in your generation. You surely wouldn't want those people's faults and failings to define you, would you? That would be unjust and ridiculous.

I think Gen Z will absolutely change the world. In the coming years, I believe some of the our most profound problems will be overcome by the unique minds of this generation. They are simply wired differently than us older people. While the world calls them unmotivated, I think we need to clarify. They are highly motivated, just not by money. In the world of meaning over money, this generation gets it unlike any before them. That value set doesn't breed laziness, but rather impact and purpose.

I think of Cole, my Meaning Over Money co-founder. He's a filmmaker who has a heart to tell stories that will change the world. He works his butt off, he's a ridiculously good husband, and he adores his two kids. (My grammar check software suggested I replace "ridiculously good husband" with "perfect husband." His wife would disagree.....). He's technically the world's youngest millenial, but I'm going to lump him in here because I like talking about him.

I think of Parker, my young friend who recently jumped on board our team to record content for us. He's passionate about so many things in life, work and otherwise. He just returned from a 3-month overseas mission trip where he impacted a ton of people. He has a heart of gold and a desire to move the needle in this world.

I think of Claire, my social media manager. I used to be her youth group leader, but now she blesses me with her expertise and wisdom. She's 16 years younger than me, yet I look up to her and learn from her every day. You better keep an eye on this one. She, her husband, and her future kids are going to make an impact on this world.

I think of Noah, a gifted photographer who has absolutely crushed the content creation game for Northern Vessel. This guy has a vision, a motor, and a heart to make a difference. Every time I see him, he's pouring into others and doing exactly what he's meant to do.

I have a hard stop at 500 words for this daily blog, but I could list off another 30 young people who are crushing it and flying directly in the face of everything negative we collectively say about this generation. The next generation has arrived, and they aren't stopping at "good enough."

When Pigs Fly

Did you know that pigs can fly? I have proof! My biggest fear in life is public speaking. It terrifies me. I once took public speaking 101 during summer college because I preferred to have 12 strangers watch me vomit rather than 100 of my university peers (true story!).

The vomiting would remain a theme for the next decade. Every time I spoke, which was as rare as I could engineer, I would vomit (in private, luckily). 10 years ago, the inevitable reality set in that I would need to speak in my career. You know, when the stakes were higher and where it's poor form to vomit on current and/or prospective clients. Therefore, I took the only step a desperate man would take: I started seeking out speaking opportunities to beat my fear into submission.

Those first few (or few dozen) talks were brutal. At first, the vomit was still there. But eventually, I merely felt like I was going to vomit. Big win! At some point along the journey, I even moderately enjoyed it. Fast forward to today, and it's one of my favorite things in the world. To me, there's nothing like the nervous energy in the minutes leading up to a talk, the euphoria of delivering a message I believe in, and the deep satisfaction I feel afterward, knowing I might have made an impact and once again conquered my biggest fear.

As I venture into this world of professional public speaking, I can't help but think about how my biggest fear has turned into a passion and a career. See, pigs can fly! Here's a little demo reel our media team recently put together. You’re the first people to see it outside of our little team!

Here's my takeaway today. I'm not special....yet, pigs fly. If that's true, and I hope you know it is considering I used the word "vomit" five times above, some pigs in your life need to spread their wings and fly. I have a feeling you already know what they are. You might have turned your back on them for years, or even decades, but the wait is over. Let those pigs fly!

First, We Fail

Yesterday, before I was about to mow the yard, Finn asked if he could help me. He's been obsessed with "mowin' men" since he could talk, so operating a push mower is right up there with ice cream and swimming pools for that kid. At first, I did the turns and let him single-handedly run with the straightaways. Then, about halfway through, he asked if he could do the turns by himself. I assisted him on the first few, but after a while, he got into a rhythm and did them himself.

The yard looks like absolute garbage. The lines are terrible, we missed spots, and he damaged a plant while trying to make one of his turns. But it was a huge win and I'm proud of him. In that moment, I had two options. First, I could have said no to him and insisted I run the show (in an effort to have a better finished product). Second, I could let him learn. I'm always a believer in the second option. While I'd prefer a yard that doesn't look like trash, today's lesson was so valuable.

Regardless of who we are or what we're trying to learn, first, we fail. Failure is the prerequisite to doing it poorly. Doing it poorly is the prerequisite to doing it average. Doing it average is the prerequisite to doing it good. Doing it good is the prerequisite to doing it great. But first, we fail.

The key word is "first." If we don't allow for a first, for the possibility of failure, how do we expect to become great? It reminds me of something I refer to as the experience paradox. Perhaps there's a technical name for it, but this is what I call it in my head. A college student applies for an entry-level job. They don't get hired because they don't have any experience. But they can't get experience until they get an entry-level job. But they can't get the entry-level job because they don't have the experience. See the paradox?

I'm really proud of Finn. The last time we mowed, he simply couldn't do it. Total fail! Today, he did a poor job. Good for him! His innocence and naivety allow him the freedom to simply be bad at something.....then become less bad. When this happens, it enables him to get better through repetition and failure.

This is a beautiful trait in young kids. It's also a beautiful trait in grown adults, though it's far less common. It's not comfortable to do things we know we'll do poorly. Applying for that job. Starting that business. Creating that content. Launching that product. Asking that person out. Asking for that promotion. When we don't have experience, we may fail. But remember, it's all part of becoming great. Becoming less bad is the onramp to the road of excellence.

I hope you do something poorly today!

You Aren't For Everyone

My social media manager, Claire, recently decided we must invest heavily in LinkedIn content. Over the last several years, I've completely neglected that platform. Not because I don't believe in it, but rather because engaging on that platform is really uncomfortable for me. It's uncomfortable because that's where my new career intersects with my old career. There's no more apparent sign of how much different my life is today than 5 years ago than when I cross so directly with my old world. But alas, Claire wins these types of debates and has started the execution of her new strategy. She's doing a great job, by the way! If interested, you can connect with me on LinkedIn HERE.

As part of my newfound engagement on that platform, I've found myself scrolling through the lists of "people I might know." Through this process, I stumbled upon so many people I do, in fact, know. I see their names, get excited, and click the "connect" button. There's a part of me that's confused why I wasn't already connected with them, but oh well. Click, click, click. After excitedly clicking name after name after name, I had an epiphany. I wasn't connected with some of these people because they intentionally disconnected me. In other words, I'm trying to friend people who just unfriended me. Awkward.....

My gut reaction is to feel sad, or betrayed, or maybe just confused. Then, I have a moment of clarity where I realize it's probably not personal. What I'm doing and what I'm publishing just isn't for them. I was a worthwhile connection for them in my private life, but perhaps not today. It doesn't mean I'm less than, of no value, or completely discarded. Instead, I think it's a clear sign that what I'm bringing to the table is much different than what it used to be. I can respect them for that.

This is an important lesson we must all internalize. I'm not for everyone. You aren't for everyone. I'm here to serve those who wish to be served, and you are, too. If someone wishes not to be served by me, that's 100% ok. In fact, some of my closest friends and family members have zero desire to be served by my content, services, or products. On the flip side, I get weekly DMs and e-mails from strangers all over the world, sharing how influential our work has been in their lives. If I'm dwelling on those who don't care what I'm doing, it's robbing time, attention, and creativity to serve those who deeply care about being served.

Whatever you're doing, just remember, you aren't for everyone. But you are for someone. And you matter a LOT to them! Lean into those someones and add as much value as you can to their lives. That's where your impact and legacy lives.

Take a Breather, Then Get Back In the Game!

Last night, our family returned from our annual lake trip. Lots of pool time, too many good eats, and countless memories filled our time together. While I always look forward to this trip, I'm equally excited to return.

While I absolutely love these family trips, I think context is important. For many, vacations are an opportunity to temporarily escape the rigors of life. Considering 70% of Americans either dislike or hate their job, I suspect more people than not can relate to this concept. Vacations and time off allow us to receive temporary relief from a day-to-day, week-to-week grind that simply wears us down. I can relate to this feeling, though it's getting further in my rearview mirror.

These days, my family vacations feel entirely different. I'm not escaping anything, because I love my day-to-day, week-to-week life. Instead, my family vacations offer me the opportunity to take a breather. It's a time to catch my breath, get my bearings straight, and regain my focus, so I can jump back into the game with fresh legs. I look forward to the break, but I'm just as excited to get back on the court as I was to get some rest.

I couldn't be more excited to get back to work next week. Lots of good things are in store. People to serve, impact to make, content to create, concepts to launch. But the breaks are important. If we're not able to catch our breath, we aren't able to give our good work everything it deserves. While I don't feel fully rested (traveling with two six-year-olds....), I have a renewed focus and excitement for what's about to happen.

Can you relate? If so, that's so amazing. If not, just know that reality does exist. You don't have to pursue it, but just know it's out there. A life where we look forward to returning to everyday life as much as we look forward to our vacations. It's beautiful.

Ron Popeil Would Be Proud

When working with clients on investing, I stress the importance of simplicity, consistency, and patience. We choose broad, cheap funds. We make contributing a habit in our life. We remember how long our time horizon is.....so we don't freak out about the volatility along the way.

Years ago, I helped a young client set up her investments just this way. We selected one of the best index funds in the world, we automated it, and she understood the big picture. Aside from that, she did absolutely nothing.

Fast forward many years, this person had long moved on from my coaching services. I randomly ran into her on the bike trail. During our brief chat, we touched on her financial progress. In this exchange, I asked her how she felt about the recent stock market craziness.

"You told me not to stress out about the stock market, so I don't even think about it."

"Yeah, that's a really great approach! I'm glad you feel good about it....just as you should! How do your investments look?"

"I haven't logged on in a few years. You said it was all automated, and I don't have to do much, so I haven't. In fact, I don't even know my account login."

"You're right. No reason to obsess about it. But maybe you should at least know how to log in to your account!"

I encouraged her to get her login information and record it somewhere safe, so she can get into her account if/when she needs to (such as changing the amount automatically being contributed."

A week later, she calls me somewhat in a panic, very excitable. "Travis, do you know how much money is in this account!?!?!" She shared the number, then shared her utter disbelief. It was far more than she had imagined it would be. I explained this is exactly what happens when we make it simple, consistent, and patient. Her monthly contributions were now just a normal part of her monthly budget, and this plan is fully integrated into her life. Yet, it's made a massive difference in her journey. These are all ideas and numbers we talk about in our meetings, but it's another thing to see it materialize right in front of your eyes. This is one of the challenges of finance. Numbers on paper never feel real. Part makebelieve, part too-good-to-be-true, part I-wish-this-would-go-faster. I couldn't be prouder of her mindset and progress. Keep it simple. Be consistent. Be patient. Don't lose sleep over it. Just living her meaningful life. That's what it's all about.

Set it and forget it. Ron Popeil would be proud!

The Beauty of (Some) Bad Financial Decisions

I have a confession: I might soon make a bad financial decision. Mathematically, it's not the right thing to do. It won't increase my net worth. It won't improve my monthly cashflow. It won't lead to the betterment of my family's financials over the long term. It's a flat-out bad financial decision. If that's true, and I know it's true, why on earth would I entertain such a decision? Because not everything is about money. Not everything in life is about optimizing for money's sake. We aren't little robots whose job is to crunch numbers and make the best mathematical decision at every point along the way.

Here's an example. I regularly argue that owning a house is often a bad financial decision. Hot take, I know. I've dug into the numbers to make my argument in the past, and I'm sure I'll do it again soon. But I'm firmly in the camp that owning a house is frequently a bad mathematical decision. However, I always follow that statement up with, "......but it may be the best life decision." I'm pro-home ownership, but not for mathematical reasons. For many people, home ownership represents something far deeper. Whenever a coaching client says they want to buy a house, I show them the math to prove why it may not be a good mathematical decision......then will often encourage them to buy the house anyway. It's not always about math and money. Sometimes it's about something deeper.....far deeper.

Where it goes awry for people is when they make a decision because they think it's a good financial decision, only to discover it's anything but. Those are the situations that burn people. On the flip side, when people know a particular decision is a poor financial decision, but know it's still the right decision to make, it can be a real blessing. This self-awareness makes all the difference in the world.

So yeah, I might make a bad financial decision. It's too early to tell, but it's on the table. If I do, it's because the non-financial aspects of the decision outweigh the financial ones. In the world of meaning over money, this is the meaning part. Always meaning over money.

The Ripple Effects of Sharing

In the summer of 2020, just as the COVID lockdowns were starting to take hold, one of our friends gave us the surprise of all surprises. They unexpectedly reached out and asked if we wanted to spend a week at their condo in a popular lake town. We had never been to this town, but had always heard rave reviews. We excitedly and gratefully accepted their invitation. It was sincerely one of the best weeks our family had experienced in white a while. The following spring, the same friend reached out via text and asked what dates we wanted. Wait, what!?!? That wasn't a one-time event?!?! We did it again.....and similarly, it was an amazing experience for my family.

Fast forward to this week, and my family is in the midst of our fourth annual trip to our friends' condo. Grateful doesn't even begin to explain how we feel about this. It's become one of the most anticipated weeks of the year, for the kids and parents alike. We've created many memories on these trips, and the kids talk about it year-round.

As much as I enjoy being on the giving end of generosity, being on the receiving end of this ongoing generous gift is truly beautiful. Our friends have been blessed with this place, and instead of keeping it all to themselves (which they have every right to do), they choose to share it. I'm continually humbled by the gift and can't express my gratitude enough.

Generosity, in all its forms, has ripple effects. When someone is on either the giving or receiving side of generosity, it impacts them. That impact, sometimes visible and sometimes not, materializes in varying ways. For me, this specific act of generosity has inspired several ideas for generosity in my own journey. It's also become a cornerstone of my children's summer, giving them memories and experiences they wouldn't otherwise have. I suspect that when my kids eventually understand the magnatude of generosity shown to them in this act, they too will be inspired to their own forms of generosity.

Generosity always wins, but the ripple effects can span much broader and deeper than we'll ever know. It's a beautiful thing, and I'm always grateful to be on either side of it. Know that every generous act, whether on the giving or receiving end, has the opportunity to create ripple effects in someone's journey. That someone just may be you!

Because That's What We Do

Yesterday's episode was our 245th installment of the Meaning Over Money podcast (Spotify / Apple). With an average run time of 17 minutes per episode, that equates to nearly 70 hours of free content. Not only is it free, but it's evergreen content that can be consumed by people for years and decades to come. Yesterday's episode was somewhat unique, though. It's completely raw and unedited. No intro/outro, no sound-improving filters, no balancing out the dips and peaks, no cutting my f-bombs (just kidding....or am I?). It's just me, my microphone, and some ideas.

Given our crazy schedules this summer, our episode pipeline has completely dwindled, and we're making it work as we go. Thus, yesterday the world received a raw and unedited episode. It's not the first time we released an unedited episode. We've probably published +/- 8 in the history of our podcast. We don't prefer this type of content; we'd much rather send a manicured product into the world. But there's one very key reason why we do it. Because that's what we do. A new episode will be released every Monday and Wednesday, 52- weeks per year, with no exceptions.

The first time we posted this kind of content, I was nervous. After all, it's not the product we want to send into the world. However, our commitment is two episodes per week.....period. Because that's what we do. We aren't sending crap into the world. In fact, some of our unedited episodes have been some of the most complimented and commented on. We could easily justify not publishing an episode one week, then do it again a few months later. Next thing you know, not publishing episodes is just a normal part of our rhythm. Cole and I are the opposite. We publish episodes because that's what we do. We are here to add value to the world. Not because it's perfect, but because it matters. And done is always better than perfect.

Here's my encouragement today. Find something in your life - and I have a feeling you already know what it is - that becomes your "because that's what we do." No excuses, no walk-backs, no justifications. It is what it is because that's what it is. When you decide to follow through, no matter what, it will change you. It's changed me many times over, and I have a feeling it will be equally powerful in your journey!

Would You Wave the Wand?

Think about some of the more significant mistakes and failures you've experienced in your life. If they are significant, I suspect they involved some level of pain. Take the next 30 seconds to think about what these mistakes are.

Alright, now that you've locked yours into your mind, I have a question. If you could wave a magic wand and undo these events, would you? As I think about my collection of terrible failures, my immediate gut answer is an overwhelming "Yes!" After all, these events have caused me a great deal of pain and suffering over my lifetime. However, as I think about it, I'm not sure I would wave that wand. I deeply regret some of these mistakes but I don't think I'd wish them away. These mistakes (and the consequences of them), in part, is what has shaped me into who I am today. My life, as it stands, is a result of all the good and all the bad, wrapped up with an imperfect little bow.

Though it's not fun to think about, some of our best growth happens through and after moments/seasons of pain. If I could undo the five worst mistakes I've ever made, I wouldn't be me. I might have fewer scars, a handful more intact relationships, and maybe some more money, but I wouldn't be me. It would be a more sterilized version of myself.

This is the thing I've learned about failure. Failure isn't losing. Failure is learning, so we'll be better next time when the stakes are higher. If I hadn't failed so miserably with my finances when I was in my late-20s, I might never have been humbled. That version of Travis may have lived the remainder of his adult life materialistically and selfishly, continuing to fall into the cultural trap of more. I experienced a brutal financial journey in that season, but I'm so much better for it.

If I hadn't failed at becoming a biological father, my two sons would never have come into my life. The fertility and adoption struggles were profoundly painful, but our family is infinitely blessed as a result. Someone once asked me if all the pain and suffering was worth it. My answer was immediate and honest, "It wasn't worth it until the moment it was worth it." Some of this pain will follow me to my grave, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Pain and failure grow us. As much as we'd probably like to wave the magic wand and undo it all, that very pain is what makes you, you, and me, me. I think it would be tragic if we suddenly became lesser, watered-down versions of ourselves. I guess we're lucky that wand hasn't been invented yet.....