Site icon Ember Trace

The Fixed Pie

I wish I had more.

These five words are at the start of so many statements of regret.

Some share those words while pining for a loved one who left their life. Others use them as they share dismay about their financial situation. Others utter them to rue missed opportunities.

Such laments can seem trite. After all, we live in the land of abundance. Why curse the past when the future is still to be written?

And yet, I think these five words can stand for something substantial. In fact, I believe they’re the key to setting our lives on a more sustainable course.


America is a land of entrepreneurs.

From coast to coast, there are plenty of people who’ve created new ventures or taken nascent businesses into household names. Often devoid of supporting resources, these entrepreneurs rely on instincts and guile.

This idea of pulling oneself up by one’s bootstraps is ingrained in American heritage. Ever since the frontier era, we’ve had to be scrappy to survive.

This has provided great risk. But with it has come great opportunity.

Prosperity is not limited to those who score the best on an entrance exam, who train with the right mentors, or who have the best connections. College dropouts can create billion-dollar companies. Single parents can turn side hustles into empires.

Although I took a rather conventional path in my career — completing my undergraduate degree and later getting a Master’s in Business Administration— I have great respect for entrepreneurs. What they’ve achieved is admirable, and worthy of praise.

However, there’s one element that concerns me about the Do-It-Yourself playbook. Namely, that it often leaves budding business minds without an understanding of economics.

Now, economics is hardly the most prized corner of business education. Theoretical by nature and dominated by pessimistic academics, it’s a discipline that’s often mocked.

Economics doesn’t help balance the books, ward off competitors, or sell more items. It simply explains the shifting playing field that business is conducted on.

And yet, that’s precisely why it’s so important.

You see, economics forces us to reckon with reality. To master it, we must learn to properly allocate scarce resources. This often means taking the least bad option, recognizing that such choices will expose vulnerabilities.

There is no way to have all the upside without any of the downside. For a central tenet of economics is The Fixed Pie — the idea that there’s only so much to go around.

It’s a basic principle. An inevitable one.

But it’s a principle that has all too often been ignored — by both the entrepreneurial community and broader society.


To infinity and beyond.

So goes Buzz Lightyear’s catchphrase in the movie Toy Story.

I was only a child when this film hit theaters. I had no idea how ridiculous this phrase was at the time. I didn’t understand that there was nothing beyond infinity to shoot for.

And yet, all these years later, there are some adults who fail to see the irony of Buzz’s words.

As the world has gone digital, the desire to go beyond infinity has grown. Companies have exploded in size and valuation, unencumbered by the constraints of the analog world. People have been able to save artifacts to the cloud without inviting that musty attic smell. The ultra-rich have seen extra zeros added to their name as they eat breakfast.

The eternal hunger for more is being fed at warp speed, without much to slow it down. And yet, we are fraying at the seams.

For try as we might, one dimension resists the vacuum of acceleration and leaves us flailing in its headwinds.

That dimension is time.


Time. It’s inevitable.

There might be trillion-dollar companies these days, but there are still only 24 hours in a day. And while we might live longer than our ancestors, we’re only young for so long.

I’ve written before about our efforts to defang time. I’ve spoken out against our ill-conceived efforts to defray it into oblivion.

Such warnings seem prescient, particularly in the wake of a pandemic that spawned widespread burnout. And yet, I feel no desire to take a victory lap.

For I have failed to heed my own advice. I too have tried to bend time to my will.

Indeed, as the world slowed down during the pandemic, I sped up. I accelerated my efforts to stay fit, stay fed, and stay fulfilled.

I’ve largely achieved these goals. But they’ve come at a cost.

I’ve been getting far less sleep than I did just a few years ago. Not because of insomnia or restlessness. But because I’m doing so much in my day-to-day.

I know that this dearth of sleep will catch up with me sooner rather than later. Yet, I still find myself clinging to the false belief that I can take my productivity to the max.

Why? Because I’m human.

I don’t want to choose. I want all the pleasure and none of the pain.

Even if it’s all a grand illusion.


There’s an old tale of a couple living in paradise. Blind to their surroundings, they lived in uninterrupted bliss.

Then, a serpent brought temptation into their midst. The two of them ate from the forbidden fruit and encountered knowledge for the first time. Shame and hardship quickly followed, as they were banished into the cold.

The tale of Adam and Eve is our origin story. God might have created them, but their saga created humanity.

And yet, it’s often viewed as a cautionary tale.

We openly wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t bitten into the fruit. How idyllic would life be?

Our recent exploits seem like attempts to answer that question. Our pursuits of perfection and abundance seek to send us back to the Garden of Eden.

But despite our efforts to avoid it, reality is out there. The fixed pie is omnipresent, and with it comes tradeoffs. Getting what we desire often means giving up something else we covet.

Those who pine after what they’ve lost might sound pitiful. But at least they’re clear-eyed.

They’ve played the game. They understand its rules. And they know better than to hide from the inevitability of tradeoffs.

Perhaps we can learn from them. Perhaps we can drop the charade and accept our circumstances. And perhaps we can use this awareness to find more equilibrium.

This might not lead to a better life. But it will allow us to live life better.

And that just might be enough.

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