Category: Thoughts

Lights On

Each year, as the days get to their shortest, something remarkable happens.

Up and down every street, we find rooftops, balconies, front lawns and driveways all adorned in light.

Whether you call them Christmas lights or holiday lights, these installations are a hallmark of our culture.

We’ve come to expect them. Yet, we still find ourselves amazed by them.

It’s not the displays themselves that give us pause. The ingredients of colored bulbs, green wires and brass fasteners are somewhere between tacky and blasé.

It’s not the fact that electric bills go up across town that grabs our attention. Only economists and this author find that noteworthy.

It’s not even the holiday spirit that leaves us gazing in wonder. The lights are just one part of a holistic ecosystem that makes us feel festive and warm as winter sets in.

No, it’s the sheer pervasiveness of these lights that leaves us in awe.

Even in a time when we can hardly agree which direction up is, we come together across faiths and demographics to light up the night. Across the country, we take on the arduous task of stringing lights all over the outsides of our homes.

It’s remarkable from a bird’s-eye view.

But take a closer look, and this practice can blur the lines between culture and cult.

There’s a Keeping Up With The Joneses aspect to holiday lights. Let it slip that you’re not hanging up your own lights, and you’ll be hit with an inquisitive Why Not?

The Why Nots seem to make more logistical sense than the Whys in this case. We generally celebrate the holidays indoors, so lighting up the outside of our home is not practical. And we don’t need an army of colored bulbs to lead us to the front door after dusk. Street and porch lights do just fine at that task year-round.

But none of that matters.

No matter the practicality, we’re expected to have our lights up between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day. And then not to have them up the rest of the year.

These expectations drive the aura that surrounds holiday lights. For without critical mass, this phenomenon would merely be a spotty trend.

But what drives these expectations themselves?

What leads us to passively shun those who opt out of decorating? What inspires us to quietly shame those who put up their lights too early? What compels us to intuitively know when it’s time to take down the installation?

I believe the answer to this question is safety.

As members of a community, we strive for safety. We want to feel secure enough to trust others, and for them to trust us.

Few actions provide that sense of safety quite like putting up holiday lights.

It’s public. It’s communal. And it toes the line between conformity and expression.

Participating in this tradition helps us fit in. It indicates our goodwill. It broadcasts our good intentions.

In a world full of tribalism and deceit, we need those signals more than ever. But we don’t just need them in the winter. We need them in the summer too.

In fact, we need them year-round.

The challenge, then, is to apply the message from the holiday lights tradition to the other 11 months of the year. To illuminate our lives the way we illuminate our homes. To spread kindness and build trust, even when the overt reminders aren’t all around us.

We have the power to make these objectives a reality. But only if we let the light within us guide the way.

Let’s start today.

The Intersect

Fascination.

There are few emotions quite like it.

When it strikes, you find yourself transfixed, in a state of awe.

There are many ways we get to this point. Some of us get there through romance. Others by looking at art. Still others by working on string theory.

I get to a point of fascination whenever I uncover something long overlooked.

Whenever I’m exposed to a new way of viewing the world around me, I’m blown away. That which I failed to recognize before is now embedded in my mind.

It’s as if a light switch was turned on in a dark corner of my cognition. My behavior becomes more conscientious. My vision gains layers of depth. And I consider of how it would be it we were all awakened to this newfound vantage point.

I’m locked in to my new reality. The one that was there the whole time, but I was previously too inattentive to see. And all the while, I’m amazed by the altered perspective that just blindsided me.

But once I get past this moment of fascination — once the awe runs its course — what do I do next?

Do I play sleuth, taking a deep dive into the topics that generated these profound insights? Do I leave them alone and go stumbling down the trail, waiting for the next lightning bolt to strike?

As it turns out, I do neither. I follow a different path instead.

Now, this is not to say that either of the approaches just listed is patently wrong. There is some value each of them.

Devoting our attention to fully understanding what bit us can help us affect positive change. Continuing down life’s path oblivious to the next profound insight can recapture that sense of fascination and wonder.

Yet, there are also drawbacks to these approaches.

Going down the rabbit hole to fully uncover new theories and ideas can be exhausting. It can divert our attention from other important ventures. It can steer us off course.

And following the path of willful obliviousness carries a
hefty opportunity cost. It restricts us from fully expanding our minds and transforming our behavior.

Neither of these approaches seems right to me. So, I focus on the intersect.

The intersect is the point where a profound insight meets something we’re more acutely familiar with. It’s where a new way of thinking impacts an old way of doing. Where a fresh perspective transforms an inherent state of being.

Consider the following example.

In her book Quiet, Susan Cain fully explains the concept of pseudo-extroversion — where introverts effortlessly act extroverted in situations that call for it. Cain refers to a psychological study that supports this concept.

Cain also cites other studies throughout the book that illustrate how introverts and extroverts respond cognitively to various cues. Many of these experiments illustrated showed different levels of stimulation to certain parts of the brain, depending on whether the subject was introverted or extroverted. They unveiled the innate differences that drive the personality gap.

As an avowed introvert, I found Cain’s writing fascinating. And I was captivated by the psychology studies she referenced. As someone who’s a marketer by trade and a writer by passion, I understand the importance of captivating an audience. And I recognize that psychology can provide the key to unlocking the cognitions behind people’s actions.

Even so, I wasn’t tempted to start studying psychology. Or even to start reading books solely committed to that discipline.

I was focused on the intersect.

On how I, as an introvert, could live a more prosperous,
enlightened life. On how I, as a marketer, could better connect with the consumers I longed to reach. On how I, as a writer, could more holistically inspire my readers.

Psychology feeds in to all these objectives, of course. But I don’t have to dig very deep to extract the concepts that best apply to my journey.

The full depth of psychological studies only does so much for me. The intersect of psychology and my passion, livelihood and state of being is where the rubber meets the road.

I don’t feel this theory applies to me alone. It applies to all of us.

Yet, all too often, we fail to abide by it.

It’s all too easy to get manically excited when we feel captivation. To feel the desire to shift course and pursue a new direction. To long for that feeling of wonder, again and again.

But the true value of our insight doesn’t come from those moments of fascination. It comes from the intersect with what we’re already
doing, thinking and feeling.

Embrace the power of the intersect. It could help you change the world, even in the subtlest of ways.

The Conviction Morass

Conviction.

It’s the difference between a half-hearted endorsement and a full-fledged belief. And it can turn an idea into an inspiration.

Conviction helps our voice cut through the clutter. It helps our concepts gain an audience. It helps our vision become a movement.

In our attention-deficient world, these results are more than a nice-to-have. They’re essential for gathering any semblance of attention.

This means conviction has become table stakes.

When we speak publicly, when we write, when we create performance art — we’re expected to do so with conviction.

The ideas within our work — they matter to us. But we must be compelling in order to make them matter to the world.

I’ve taken this mantra to heart.

I speak with conviction. I act with conviction. And I try and share ideas on Words of the West with conviction.

Without conviction, the tens of thousands of words I’ve shared here would ring hollow. They would lie trapped between tradewinds of spreadable ideas on the high seas of prose.

Such a fate does no one any good.

So, I only write on concepts I truly believe in. I only focus on fresh perspectives that I feel could benefit the world at large.

Yet, each time I share my vision with the world, a haunting
thought gathers in my mind.

What If I’m leading my audience astray?

You see, much like a frontiersman’s pickax, conviction is a requisite tool to break through. But it’s as double edged as a Bowie knife.

All ideas shared with conviction are not necessarily good ones. In fact, conviction has helped bring about the darkest sides of humanity.

Totalitarianism, genocide and human trafficking each have their roots in conviction. These scourges on our existence are not native to our cognition. But when the misguided spread a message of divisiveness with great conviction, a devastating tidal wave can take hold.

Those who seek to send us backward can be just as effective as those who seek to bring us forward.

For conviction doesn’t discriminate on morality. It simply provides a bigger megaphone.

This is a sobering reminder.

While few of us aim to use the powers of conviction to denigrate society, the ideas we spread can still cause harm.

After all, the world is not black and white. It’s shades of
gray.

And a movement that inspires one person can send another spiraling.

I consider this morass each time I spread ideas.

I recognize the danger embedded within. And how it might remain at odds with my Do No Harm mandate.

Yet, I carry on.

Because ultimately, the opportunity cost is greater if I don’t share. Because ultimately, the benefits outweigh the risks.

This rings true for all of us.

Making a positive change in the world starts with speaking up. If your heart is true and your morals are strong, it is worthwhile to share your ideas with conviction.

So, don’t hold back.

Know the risks. Understand the responsibilities. Take the leap.

What’s Deserved

There’s an iconic line embedded in the 1992 western Unforgiven.

A notorious gunslinger (played by Clint Eastwood) has his rifle pointed at a corrupt sheriff (played by Gene Hackman). Out of ammunition and injured by a previous bullet, the sheriff has no recourse beyond his words to ward off doom.

“I don’t deserve this,” the sheriff says.

“Deserve’s got nothing to do with it,” replies the gunslinger.

Those seven words carry weight, much like Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Not just on the big screen. But in the world as a whole.

You see, we all too often feel as if we deserve things. As if the results we see in life are validation of our actions or intentions.

It’s not our fault. Society actively promotes this message. Particularly this time of year.

Don’t believe me? Consider what we were told as children about Santa’s naughty and nice lists, and what they might lead to.

Did you want a lump of coal or a shiny new toy? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The mantra of Do good, get rewarded is hardwired into our culture. We’re raised to believe that if we do things the right way, we’ll see the results we deserve.

There’s only one problem with this theory.

It’s not true.

The world is inherently unfair. Bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad ones.

No matter how much we want to think that we’ll get what we deserve, there’s no guarantee we will.

So how do we respond?

We could look upon this discrepancy with scorn. We could act slighted if we don’t get the result we feel should be coming our way.

But if we do this, the only thing we’ll deserve is the label of whiny or entitled.

No one wants to hear how our day to day lives are less perfect than we desire them to be. For we live in a world filled with imperfection. Lamenting the parameters of our existence is as futile and unproductive as yelling at the sun for rising in the east.

So, no. Much like the fallen sheriff in Unforgiven, complaining does us no good.

It’s far better to take the word deserve out of the equation. To look at the opportunities we’re given as a blessing. To accept the rewards we get for good deeds with humility, and with grace.

This won’t even up the score. Bad things will still happen to good people. Favorable actions won’t always lead to favorable outcomes.

But our mindset will be better. We’ll be more optimistic. We’ll take less for granted.

And that’s a gift that will keep on giving.

So, let’s stop thinking of what’s owed. And start focusing on what is yet to be earned.

After all, deserve’s got nothing to do with it.

Thank God for that.

Taking Up Space

When it comes to impact statements, it’s all too easy to draw a line in the sand.

Are we making a difference, or taking up space?

This is a black and white delineation in a world of gray. Yet, the underlying message remains on point.

We’re obligated to make a difference. To contribute positively to our community. To leave the world better than we found it.

For our society is like an engine. The more its components help it run, the more efficiently it chugs along. The more those components sit idle, the more it drags.

To a great measure, this is unequivocal fact. Regardless our opinion of a social safety net or welfare, there is a cost that comes with providing opportunities. From paychecks to subsidies, nothing we receive to put a roof on our heads, food in our mouths or clothes on our bodies truly comes for free.

This cost is typically offset by the contributions we make to society, and specifically the economy. This could be 40 hours a week helping a company provide a service to the market. Or the generation of ideas or academic thoughts that allow the society to break boundaries and improve efficiencies. These types of activities provide balance.

But when we’re receiving this assistance while sitting on the couch, it could be argued that there is no balance. What we get is more than what we give in return.

Under this definition, we’re taking up space.

Now, opportunity does not always come equal. As such, we may be stuck on the couch not of our own volition.

Regardless, the optics of this outcome are not great.

So, our society often puts stipulations behind handouts. It requires all of us to at least make an honest pass at offsetting the costs behind them.

This could mean applying for jobs. Or filling out forms to explain disabilities that stand in the way of our opportunities.

The underlying message is clear.

As a society, we don’t tolerate taking up space.

 

I learned the mantra of making a difference from an early age.

I recall waving goodbye to my father as he got on the commuter rail in his business suit. Or how my mother dropped me off at school and then headed to her job.

Most acutely, I remember when my father switched careers and became a teacher. He hoped to make a bigger difference in the world, and make his own that much brighter.

A quarter century later, I’d say he has achieved that objective. And he continues to do so.

Following my parents’ example, I’ve worked hard in two careers throughout my adult life. I’ve taken nothing for granted. I’ve embraced each day with a sense of determination and purpose.

In the workplace and out of it, I’ve sought to make a difference. To be productive. Not to take up space.

This mission has guided the decisions I’ve made, both professionally and socially. My mantra of impact has led to my drive and my edginess. It’s filled my daily to-do list with a gauntlet of activities. It’s encouraged me to push my limits and take on more responsibilities.

Each and every day, I am following my mission. I am being productive. I am not taking up space.

But maybe I should be.

Living life as a productivity-holic has its own associated costs. (Is productivity-holic a word? I feel it should be.)

Most notable of these costs is burnout.

It takes a lot of energy to devote so much time to an agenda. Focusing on maximum productivity, on making the biggest difference I can — that constantly requires me to think of What’s Now and What’s Next.

The detritus of this focus can lead to exhaustion.

And exhaustion can weaken a mind. It can lessen its impact.

I have felt these effects loud and clear. Yet, whenever I have, another thought has come to my mind.

Suck it up. Keep making a difference. Don’t you dare take up space.

This is stupid.

Taking a breather now and then is critical. It rejuvenates us and unshackles our mind. It allows us to make our biggest impact.

Yes, taking up space causes a drag on society. But the short-term cost is more than offset by the long-term gain we can provide.

So, moving forward, I will start building these breathers into my life. I will stop viewing the concept of taking up space as heresy.

And I will continue to take up space here and there, as long as such endeavors are undertaken with a greater goal in mind.

While it’s blasphemous for one to prescribe the path they have not yet taken, I encourage you to join me on this journey. For it will provide mutual benefits.

Let us find our pause. And in doing so, let’s refresh our purpose.

The space we take up will not be wasted.

Acculturation Wars

Our nation is in the midst of a great battle.

Not one fought in a military zone, or in deliberated in a courtroom. But one borne out through bitter public discord.

That battle is over the future of our culture.

There are some who aim to protect the status quo at all costs. They see an influx of outsiders and an onset of changing demographics as a threat to culture as they know it.

There are some who aim to promote change. They see that same influx of outsiders and onset of changing demographics as an opportunity to further evolve our culture.

And then there are some who are in the middle. They welcome the influx of outsiders and onset of changing demographics, so long as some existing norms are respected.

I belong to that last group.

I live just outside of Dallas. Like many regions across the Sunbelt, the greater Dallas area —often called the Metroplex — is blessed with mild weather, ample land and an affordable cost of living.

These factors — along with Dallas’ central location — have attracted many companies, who have relocated to the region. With those companies have come many new jobs. And with those new jobs come an influx of new residents.

This has been a boon for the area. The influx of people and jobs have led to new housing, schools, restaurants, entertainment venues and infrastructure. The economy has grown accordingly, and opportunity abounds.

Yet, all of that change has come with a cost.

Many of the new residents feeding Dallas’ burgeoning economy have relocated from California. But while their address has changed, their cultural affiliation has not. This has led to a growing bubble of Californianism, deep in the heart of Texas.

The problem with this development is that Texans, as you might have heard, are a proud bunch. We have a rich culture steeped in heritage and tradition. And we don’t take it well when that culture is treated like a doormat.

So as more people flood in from the shores of the Pacific and redefine North Texas as California East, the tension builds. Don’t California My Texas stickers start appearing on rear windows of pickup trucks. Don’t Cali My Dallas becomes a rallying cry.

This is not to say that Dallas is entirely insular. I myself moved to the area from West Texas several years ago, and I’m not a Native Texan. Even so, I have been treated with nothing but kindness during my time in North Texas. And there are many others like me across the area who are not met with derisive car stickers.

So, what’s the difference? Unlike the recent swath of California transplants, I took heed of the existing culture in Dallas, and incorporated it into my lifestyle. I didn’t willingly stand apart.

This wouldn’t seem to be difficult. After all, I did come to Dallas directly from elsewhere in the Lone Star State. But, West Texas has a different culture than North Texas — out west it’s more western and rural. It took me a bit to learn the ropes in the Metroplex, but I kept a spirit of adaptability. Today, Dallas is as much as part of me as I am part of it.

It’s my hope that the wave of Californians in the area follow a similar path. That they respect the cultural norms and traditions found here in Texas. And that they work to incorporate that culture into their own, instead of remaining at odds with it.

On a broader scale, I hope that people who relocate to new areas across the country — regardless of their origin — follow this strategy. That they take heed of the culture that’s already in place, and work to incorporate with their own.

I also hope that those who already are in these communities are as welcoming to new residents who make this effort as my neighbors here have been to me.

When both new and existing residents work to bridge the gap, it can help alleviate cultural tension. It can also forge stronger community ties. Everybody wins.

Let’s take the middle ground. And end the squabbling once and for all.

We Rise

If I had to distill my overall life philosophy into three words, it would be the following.

Together we rise.

It means that success is not a zero-sum game. That we can work together to see the change we aspire to achieve.

In essence, this philosophy is an extension of the old adage A rising tide lifts all boats. Yet, in this case, the observed change does not come from the whims of Mother Nature. Instead it’s driven by the will of our nature.

The rise comes from a place of selflessness, sharing and compassion. From a place of sacrifice and humility. From a place of recognition for the unmatched potential of societal change.

And it comes from a basic realization. We did not get here alone.

It’s a simple fact. But it’s one that can gradually take the air out of us, like a slow leak in a tire.

Why? Because we feed off a narrative of self-made grandeur. Of pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps and driving our own success. Of independent prosperity.

This narrative, of course, is ridiculous. We’re not born knowing how to walk, talk, eat solid food or clean up after ourselves. We’ve had help from Day One. And that assistance has often stretched into adulthood.

Yet, the self-made man narrative is pervasive because it has roots in our heritage. Frontier settlers in early America did indeed get by on grit, guile and perseverance.

Still, for all of the stories of Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, there are countless others that are left untold. Stories that ended with frontier settlers scalped, starved or frozen to death.

That would have been the story of the Pilgrims too, had the local natives not helped provide them the tools to survive the brutal winters of present-day Massachusetts.

No, despite tales to the contrary, our society itself did not get here alone. Despite the tall tales of glory, a healthy dose of humility is in the offing when we reflect on what’s allowed us to innovate, iterate and prosper over the past four centuries.

This is why we celebrate Thanksgiving around this time each year. It’s why we maintain an air of kindness and generosity as the calendar winds down.

It’s a noble cause. One that summons the best in all of us.

But why can’t it be omnipresent the entire year around?

We’d be better served putting our oversized egos away, no matter the season. We’d be better off if we considered achievement in the context of We Not Me.

This would require a shift in attitude, from feeling the euphoria of receiving to attaining the satisfaction of giving. It would require more bandwidth, from looking out for ourselves to looking out for others. And it would require a mix of patience and persistence, as improvement does not always come at a constant rate.

But these changes would be well worth it.

No longer would our success come at the cost of others. No longer would our achievements widen the dividing line between the haves and the have nots.

Instead, we would be building shared equity in improvement. We would be forging stronger ties with our community. And, in doing so, we would help solidify our legacy in a way that resonates long after we’re gone.

I’ve long said that when my time is done, I would want my headstone to read: He had a good heart and he cared.

That message is simple. But it need not be revolutionary.

So, as we prepare to give thanks and spread cheer, let’s consider how we can devote ourselves to something greater. Let’s commit to three powerful words.

Together we rise.

Rewind and Fast Forward

How did we get here?

It’s a common question these days.

Whether the question comes from a place of anguish, exasperation or curiosity, it’s omnipresent.

There’s good reason for us to delve into this root cause analysis. The past is already written. It’s printed in the pages of books or encoded in our memory banks.

Our recollections of what came before are often vivid. And our interpretation of those events can draw a line to the present.

Never mind that our accounts of the past can be skewed by bias. That history is all too often written by the victors. That memories can fade over time, or enter our cognition already tarnished by an abundance of stress or a lack of perspective.

The fundamental point remains the same.

We draw upon what’s known to help figure out what’s uncertain. We take the solid inscriptions of our past to reconcile the shaky ground of our present.

This method has served us well for generations. After all, the old adage goes, Those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it.

Yet, the habit of rewinding to move ahead is less relevant than ever today.

Why? We have more power over our story trajectory these days. No longer are we akin to cattle, being paraded down the well-worn trails our ancestors have left.

Today, we are not bounded by limits in technology, communication and innovation. We are largely free to forge a new path that can upend the way society works.

This provides great opportunity. But also, a great challenge.

For while these changes are of our volition, the side effects can make us queasy.

There is no recipe book we can turn to when the ground gets shaky. No prescription to ease the volatility.

The straight-line relationship we’ve inferred between past and present has shifted into an accelerating curve. We’re writing the book in real-time now.

So what recourse do we have? How can we keep our narrative from taking an unintended turn?

It starts by asking a new question.

Where do we go from here?

Starting with this question moves us from reaction to action. It can allow us to move forward with intention, unencumbered by the weight of the past.

It can help us find meaning, even in the face of present-day unease. It can help us write our story on our own terms.

And the best part? This method can work for just about everyone.

No matter which factors have led us to this point, there is a beneficial way forward.

Yes, for some of us, those past actions themselves lead to forward-facing consequences. If we’ve committed a crime, we must do the time. We cede control of our narrative to pay our debt to society.

But this is an edge case. A grave one, but an edge case nonetheless.

For the most part, we have the power to fast forward. To consider what comes next in order to right our wrongs, build off our achievements and iterate toward a brighter future.

We seldom use this power. And when we do, it’s all too often secondary to our root cause analysis.

It’s time to change that.

Even in an ambiguous world, the direction we head is still largely in our control.

But it starts by asking the right questions.

Let’s do so.

Aspiration Inspiration

Every year, around this time, we play a starring role.

We dress up in elaborate costumes, eat way too much candy and decorate our homes as a hotel for the afterlife.

We dim the lights and turn up the creepy music. All in an attempt to spook and scare.

Yes, Halloween traditions are in full swing. And while these festivities are ostensibly for the kids, adults get in the spirit plenty.

This should come as no surprise. After all, children didn’t originate the tradition of dressing as a pumpkin, or a lion, or a Storm Trooper on the last day of October every year. The first time many kids wore a costume, they were too young to even understand what they were dressed up as.

And going door to door, asking for candy from strangers? If kids came up with that idea, parents would certainly veto it.

No, the culture of Halloween most certainly started with grown-ups. As adults, we cherish this holiday. Not only to eat all that leftover candy, but also to pass the message to the next generation that we can be whatever we dream of being.

For one day a year, this is true.

But what about all the others?

When the clock strikes midnight and the calendar shifts to November, we go from dressing like pumpkins to becoming them.

The slipper no longer fits. There’s a glass ceiling in its place.

I’m not talking about the glass ceilings formed by experience gaps, gender or ethnicity. Our society is taking some long overdue steps to shatter those barriers. (And it’s about time!)

No, I’m talking about the glass ceiling we’ve formed for ourselves.

For all our talk of aspirations, how much have we backed up that talk with action? For all the times we tell kids If you can dream it, you can do it, how often do we follow through?

Probably not as much as we’d like.

There are many times when our dreams might be untenable. Only the most talented baseball players make the major leagues. Only a chosen few can see their name in lights in Hollywood.

But there are plenty of other times that we make our dreams untenable.

You see, for all we make light of ghosts and goblins and spookiness, we all too often let fear hold us back. We let what could happen get in the way of what might be.

This is horribly unfortunate.

Fear only has power over our lives if we let it. The more we run from it, the more we turn our aspirations into daydreams.

Punting on our aspirations sets a poor example. One that the next generation feeds off of.

Over time, this makes it harder and harder for people to view their aspirations as a potential reality. The more we’re surrounded by a culture that self-imposes a glass ceiling, the more real that barrier becomes.

It’s time to break through.

Let’s go after our aspirations. Let’s inspire others to do the same.

Let’s use our actions, not our words, to promote a society where the sky really is the limit. One where we don’t have to resort to dressing up once a year for our soul to be free.

If we can do this, we can change everything.

Aspirations are powerful. Let’s use that power for the better.

Sunken Opportunities

How much do you know about sunk costs?

Perhaps you’ve heard of the sunk cost fallacy. That’s the false belief that you must salvage any remaining value from a decision gone bad. The illusion that there’s even anything to be salvaged in that situation.

The sunk cost fallacy leads us to hang on to items we have no purpose for. It causes us to maintain subscriptions we’ve never made use of. And it compounds poor decision making with more poor decisions.

The conventional wisdom is to ignore sunk costs. To throw out the baggage weighing us down and not think about the price tag.

But as with most concepts, this advice is far more straightforward on paper than in reality.

One reason for this is emotion. It’s difficult to make a logic-based decision when you let your feelings get in the way.

Decisions that didn’t go as planned carry an emotional toll. It’s hard to throw away the sensations that went through our hearts and minds when making our initial decision. And it’s especially difficult when money is involved in those decisions.

Our finances are tied to our feelings of security. Casting away something we spent our hard-earned money on is a bitter pill to swallow.

So, our emotions can lead us to hang on. Even when we know we shouldn’t.

Another reason why we hang on to sunk costs is to avoid the implication that we erred beyond reproach. That we failed, wholly and completely.

You see, we don’t like failure. It eats at us. It terrifies us.

This is why we’re so attuned to silver linings. It’s why we believe in moral victories.

We feel that if we can take away something from a bad experience to help us down the line, then perhaps the blunders will be worth it.

Of course, casting off sunk costs flies in the face of this theory. There’s nothing to take away. Just an opportunity to cut the dead weight and head on down the trail.

The idea echoes an entrepreneurial tagline: Fail fast and move forward.

But this might not be the right approach.

I certainly understand the benefits of starting anew. I recognize the power of progressing unencumbered by the ghosts of poor decisions past.

Yet, without a process in place to learn from our mistakes, we only assure that we will repeat them.

We will stay sloppy. We will remain wasteful. And we will build a culture that casts accountability aside.

This is not the type of world we want to live in. This is not the future we want to build.

But where do we draw the line? How do we reconcile between ignoring sunk costs and keeping ourselves from iterating and improving?

Some critical judgement is needed.

We must recognize that not all sunk cost situations are the same.

Some are predominantly the result of chance, of known risk. The forces that lay your resources to waste are beyond your control.

If you invest in a grill and deck chairs, and it rains all summer long, the cruel side of chance is to blame. Same deal if you buy a warm jacket and ski boots for your vacation in Colorado, only to encounter record high temperatures all week.

There is nothing to be learned from these misfortunes. Nothing that you could or should have done differently.

Risk is omnipresent and unpredictable. We can’t plan around it, nor should we try to.

Best to cast off the sunk costs and move forward.

On the other hand, many sunk cost situations are actually efficiency opportunities in disguise. They’re decisions you can’t have back, but might rethink the next time around.

Those season tickets you bought but didn’t use? That’s one of them.

You can’t get your money back, but you sure as heck can avoid repeating that decision next year. Cast off the sunk cost with discretion.

Same goes for any golden handcuffs situation you might find yourself in. Leaving those perks behind might be gut-wrenching. But knowing what to look for next time around can spare you the ignominy of dealing with the same situation later.

The key, then, is recognition. It’s taking a close look at those sunk costs and determining which ones are purely a matter of chance, and which ones provide an opportunity for growth.

It’s understanding the difference between letting go and learning. It’s coming to terms with the duality of purpose.

Getting to know this distinction is a worthwhile mission. One that allows tomorrow to be better than today.

So, don’t despair at sunk costs. There may be sunken opportunities within them.