Whenever I discover that someone has a radically different viewpoint or opinion than my own on some particular topic, a few things always happen in my head, in roughly this order:

First, I double-check the disagreement to make sure it’s real. Sometimes there are miscommunications, differing definitions of terms, etc. If someone else’s position is radically different from my own, I like to be certain about it.

The next thing that happens is that I give some serious consideration to whether my own viewpoint should change. Philosophical positions have a sort of gravity to them, and when I encounter one of particularly deep conviction I think it’s hubris to not at least consider the possibility that I’m the incorrect one. I like to think I have good reasons to hold the positions that I do, but part of what gives me that confidence is avoiding echo chambers and listening to dissent.

Assuming I choose to remain in my own position, however, the next thing that happens is that I briefly entertain the notion of trying to sway the other person out of theirs. The instinct to do so is strong, but I generally fight down that instinct and resist the temptation to argue.

So then comes the last step, the most enjoyable one – I look for ways to profit from the disagreement.

Not just for me! I’m always looking for win/win scenarios. Opportunities to help each other and both gain more than we spent in terms of juice. The thing is, that’s actually less likely to happen with someone who is in agreement with you on most things. When you find someone who has a very different mindset than you, there are all sorts of things you can do for each other to take advantage of each other’s strengths and their ability to counteract your own weaknesses.

So don’t dismiss people who disagree with you. Don’t bother trying to change their minds too much, either. Just look for the ways you can each profit from the friction. Life is more interesting that way.

Imagine you were about to embark on some endeavor, but before you put in your first iota of work, you were magically granted a choice between two scenarios:

1. A 90% chance of success, but if you fail you’ll be pretty miserable and it could hurt your ability to learn from the failure or be motivated to try again. Or–
2. A 75% chance of success, but whether you succeed or fail you’ll be happy.

The reason I’m thinking about this particular choice is that I’ve come up against two philosophical concepts, both of which seem sound to me, but are in conflict with one another. I want to either reconcile the two or, failing that, decide on which I think is more helpful.

Concept #1 is a concept rooted in Stocism, which generally tracks pretty well to my normal operating procedures. The concept is that no matter what you try to accomplish, you should try your absolute best – but even in doing so, at least some percentage of the outcome is up to fate. Doing everything right increases your chances for success, but doesn’t guarantee it. So knowing that, you should be okay with the idea of failing because if it’s external to your control then worrying about it is a path of stress and madness. In this way, you can keep your focus 100% on what you can control, which is a more beneficial use of that attention. You take the right actions, and let the outcomes take care of themselves.

Concept #2 is a psychological concept that says once we mentally have a Plan B, we decrease our chances of succeeding at Plan A. For example, if you say “I really want to get all my laundry done today, but if that doesn’t happen, I at least want to get one load washed,” then you’re very likely to only get one load washed. Once the easier path to Outcome B presents itself, you’ll take that path. So a way to stay motivated is to remove any options but success for yourself. This may give you the best chance at success, but you’ve also taken away your safety net – both emotionally and very likely physically as well.

So therein lies the conflict. Pushing yourself so hard that you “burn the boats” may increase your chances of success, but they also dramatically increase the mental penalty for failure. (Sometimes the physical penalty as well, but ultimately this is a post about the mental state associated with this choice.) Whereas allowing yourself to be emotionally okay with failure is definitely healthier if you fail, but also increases the chance of that failure occurring in the first place.

There’s almost certainly a mathematical solution, but I don’t have tight enough data on the variables. If I knew exactly the difference in percentage chance of success between the two mental states, and could quantify exactly the increased mental harm from failure in the difference, and could exactly measure the increased benefits gained from X% more successes over my lifetime… well, if I could do all that I wouldn’t be a mortal man.

So instead, I seek a philosophical solution. On the surface, the question seems almost trivially simple to me: Which is better – to be more successful but less happy overall, or happy no matter what with a little less success? If that were really the question, it seems like anyone with two brain cells to rub together would pick being happy. What good is success if you’re not happy with it – and what use is the marginal extra success if you’re happy no matter what?

But I don’t think the question is that simple. For one, I have children. Children I care about deeply and to whom I want to bequeath a legacy of success. I want them to be set up for every advantage that it’s within my power to grant. I would sacrifice a large degree of my own happiness, present and future, to secure more for them – and as a parent, I’ve already done so plenty! So in one way, choosing a mental state that gives me more happiness overall but less overall success is like trading away their future happiness for my own present happiness.

Then, I think about whether or not any advantages I grant my children will make them happier in the long run – it may make them more successful, but if success doesn’t translate into happiness, then what benefit am I really granting them? Am I sacrificing present happiness for… no one’s happiness, mine or theirs?

But then, I start to question whether success doesn’t really translate into happiness. I know that people with yachts aren’t necessarily happier than people with holes in their shoes. I’ve never been made happier by material things like that. But I am much, much happier when I have less to stress about, and success certainly removes a lot of stressors. I can worry about my children’s future happiness all I want, but today I have to feed them.

And then, another thought pops into my head. About my parents. You see, my own children are too young yet for this to be a realistic question for their consideration, but it’s a valuable question none the less: How much does my happiness increase the happiness of my children?

If my parents gave me a million dollars, it would definitely change things for me. But if doing so caused them to be miserable, I’d hate it. I’d give the million right back if it made them happy again. So assuming my children ultimately grow to feel about me the way I feel about my own parents, then they’d value me being happier over me being more successful, even if that means they themselves have less.

But then, the other voice argues: it’s selfish of me to claim to want to be happier because it will ultimately make my children happier, when you certainly don’t know that’s the case. And besides, one of the values you want to instill in your children is always to work hard, strive, push–

–am I telling them to sacrifice happiness for success?

This is a departure from my normal posts. I don’t have an answer, or even a theory. This might be a question I work through for years. It might be a central theme of my entire relationship with my children. I don’t always know what’s best. But I’m always trying to figure it out, I promise.

If you really want your dream role, and they won’t hire you, I’ve given this advice: do anything you can to get your foot in the door. If Google won’t hire you as a developer, then serve coffee in their cafeteria.

Why? Because it’s far easier to change the nature of a relationship with an organization than to forge a new one. Internal interviews are easier to get than external ones, organic networking (i.e. “water-cooler conversations”) is easier than getting five minutes with an executive when you don’t already have a connection, and demonstrating work ethic is easier than claiming you have it.

The caveat, of course, is that you actually have to serve the coffee.

I’ve seen people get 90% of the way there on this good advice. They find the company they want to work for, they identify where they want to be, and then they claim that they’re willing to start at the bottom to work their way up. But then they forget the “work their way up” part. They make the mistake of thinking that the transition from entry-level customer service associate to CEO will take place overnight, and they treat the role they’re using to get their foot in the door practically as an afterthought.

Working up from the mail room is an awesome plan. And you shouldn’t plan to stay in the entry-level role forever. Heck, that’s why it’s an entry-level role. But once you make that plan and get in on the ground floor, you have to totally recalibrate your thinking. You have to say: “Now, for at least the next 12 months, I’m going to absolutely crush this.”

Because the mail room clerk that gets the shot at the role they really want will not be the mail room clerk that’s constantly talking about the role they really want while totally shirking their current duties.

You have to serve the best damned cup of coffee anyone at Google has ever had, if you want to leverage that into a shot to try out for a different department. It won’t always work (and so you should know when to cut your losses and change direction!), but it will never work if you don’t serve the coffee first.

There are big things in life, and there are little things.

Many people, myself included, think we have a pretty good handle on the big things, but admit we often slack on the little things, if we’re being honest with ourselves.

When presented with a Big Decision, we think we’ll react well. But that’s because we think Big Decisions are different than they are. We think Big Decisions will be single-moment, high-impact, obvious-choice problems. Betray a friend’s trust or don’t? Take advantage of a vulnerable person or not? Things like that. But that’s not the case.

The real Big Decisions are just the little things, with twenty years of hindsight tacked on.

You can’t discount any decision as inconsequential. You should behave well, according to your values and ideals, in every moment. This is incredibly, incredibly hard.

It’s hard! But you should do it anyway. Here are some ways I’m doing that, and maybe they’ll work for you:

1. Don’t retroactively defend your impulse decisions. We do that too often – we do something without thinking about it, without considering its place in our overall value structure, on instinct or base desire. But then when we realize it, we make the mistake 10x worse by trying to justify it. You grab a candy bar instead of a healthier snack and then afterwards say “well, I’ve had a rough day and I deserve it and I’ll do extra sit-ups tomorrow and blah blah blah.” Don’t. Just say, “I ate a candy bar when my deeper consideration would have prevented it. I made a mistake. I own it, I’ll try to do better.”
2. Examine those decisions. Okay, you ate the candy bar. If you defend it, you’ll do it again. If instead you say, “what conditions led to my impulses getting the better of me,” then you can truly work to prevent that from happening again.
3. Find the thing that makes you happier than the mistake. To keep with the candy bar example – for some people, it’s stepping on a scale and seeing the progress they’re making by cutting out sugar. For me, it’s holding my children – and thinking about my father’s failing health due to diabetes. I’m happy when I imagine myself as active with my grandchildren as I am with my children. Happier than a candy bar could ever make me.

Doing this with every little decision can feel daunting, even exhausting. But pick one to start. Build the habit from there. Do it… or at least consider it.

I love the way a good soundtrack can enhance not just a movie or television show, but your life.

As a movie buff, I have a great respect for the spectacular soundtracks. When a movie (or show!) cultivates a really amazing playlist to accompany it, I think it’s the difference between merely good and true art. A lot of my new music comes from soundtracks.

But I also love the actual effect those things can have. There was recently a video floating around of wives playing the NFL theme on their phones and then taking videos of their husbands running into the room – theme music triggers something in us, like Pavlov’s dogs. Even that great scene in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, where Roger can’t resist finishing the “shave and a haircut” bit.

Repetitive auditory triggers work wonders on us, and that’s why all of those gags are funny and effective. It’s why incredible composers and great film music editors alike can elicit emotions from us. And it’s why you can program yourself for better behavior.

I keep a number of playlists on hand that I associate with different activities – deep creative work, chores, working out, sleeping, etc. I always play those when I’m doing that activity. As a result, playing that particular playlist makes me want to do the associated activity.

I don’t mind being as easy to program as Pavlov’s dogs were. In fact, I relish it – because I control the programming. We are all products of our stimuli – so make sure you’re the one with the remote control.

My Beansprout, age 8, broke her thickest board yet in her karate career. Pretty danged impressive!

What’s more impressive is how she failed the first few times before recovering and getting it right. Her form was fine; but she didn’t shout.

In the tradition she studies, it’s called k’ihap – that sharp shout you use when you want extra power. Despite eight-year-olds seemingly shouting pretty much constantly, training to remember this specific shout at the specific time when you need to maximize your power is actually somewhat tough.

There’s a lesson there for all things – you’ve always got a deeper well to draw from. You really can give 110% when you need to, because you can use every muscle in your leg and maybe still fail. But add a little more from your lungs – from your heart – and maybe you’ll get there.

Like she did.

Reading good things puts fuel in my creative tank.

Reading garbage is like putting sugar in the gas tank. It’s not just bad, it’s worse than reading nothing at all. You’d rather have an empty tank than a polluted one.

When I read good things, I have good insights. When I read garbage, the most I usually come up with is “anti-garbage,” which isn’t the same as good stuff.

Telling someone not to do bad things might be correct, but it’s not as helpful as giving them examples of good things to do.

Which sounds better: telling someone that they’re kind, or telling someone that they’re not a jerk?

One is a “reverse negative.” It’s not really an insult or anything, but it’s still thinking about them in very negative terms. It uses a negative (being a jerk) as the anchor point, and then basing your evaluation of them in terms of distance from that negative.

I don’t want my brain constantly trying to put distance between my thoughts and negative space. I want my brain engaged with the task of getting me closer to positive space. All the time.

When it comes to major decisions, you can’t base your entire choice on one metric. That seems obvious – but people do it all the time.

People say “I want the fastest car.” Or “I want the highest-paying career.” Or “I want to attend the most prestigious university.” They pick one metric, and pursue it relentlessly. And then they’re miserable.

Imagine saying you want the highest-paying job. You get a job offer for $200k per year, with 4 weeks’ vacation, in a field you have great passion for, with a smart and capable team. But you pass it up for a job you hate, with no flex time, a team of hateful misanthropes… but it pays $201k per year.

That’s an extreme example, but people do similar things all the time. Engineering probably pays more than painting, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be happier. And painting is probably less stressful than engineering, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be happier either!

In truth, we want a careful balance and mix of elements in our big decisions. I don’t just want the safest car. I want a car with the right mix of safety, price, cargo room, and other features.

If you get too hung up on relentlessly pursuing a single metric, you can bury yourself with unfavorable trade-offs. Maybe not as extreme as the example above, but bad enough that taken together they can make you really miserable.

Carefully measuring all of these trade-offs usually isn’t worth it on small decisions. When you’re figuring out what to eat for dinner tonight, feel free to pick “fastest” as your metric. It’s totally fine to buy the “cheapest” pair of sunglasses if you don’t really feel like worrying about it.

But major decisions? Things that have vast, rippling effects on huge swaths of your life? Don’t be a single-issue voter. Make a list of the things that matter and reasonable goals for each category, and mix and match until you find what works for you.

Here’s a tip: whatever the top example in any given category is, it almost always has terrible trade-offs for everything else. Care about the mix.

The person I want to be is as real as the person I am.

I’ve got a sweet tooth. I love sugar; put a Twix bar in my mouth and I’m a happy guy. At least, for maybe 10 minutes until that sugar actually hits my bloodstream.

Diabetes runs in my family, and I used to be a very high risk factor for it due to my weight. Being unhappy with my overall health and wanting to live to meet my grandkids, I finally managed to get it under control. I’m happy to say I’m at a very healthy weight these days (though I’m still continuing to work on being even healthier!), and I avoid sugar almost 100%.

I would be lying if I said I was being “true to myself.” My true self loves sweets and will snack himself into the grave in about 5 years.

Here’s another thing I’m very proud of: when I was much younger I was absolutely filled with a seething, ungodly rage. I didn’t have exactly what you’d call a “temper;” I didn’t fly off the handle easily or anything. Rather, I let things push me into very dark grudges that came out in very unpleasant ways and were hard to put back into the box once they escaped. I didn’t go off easily, but when I did it was bad. I’m very happy to say that’s not the way I operate any more – I’ve never once raised my voice in anger at my children, I haven’t let my mind wander into indulgent revenge fantasies in a decade or more, and so on.

But that’s not being true to myself. My true self is a horrible little gremlin who will magnify the tiniest slight and allow the wound in my heart to fester until it blacks out all reason.

I could go on and on. Horrible flaws too numerous to count. Each time, in order to overcome them, at some point I had to just drink the Kool-Aid and say “even though it’s a lie, it’s a lie that I want to be true – I am not that person anymore.”

I know that’s weird advice, but sometimes you have to start by just lying to yourself. Because who you are isn’t a deeper truth than who you want to be.

You aren’t any “thing.” There are a long series of actions you’ve performed in the past, but that isn’t you. To an outside observer, it may be a predictor of your future behavior, but that’s only because statistically most people don’t change that dramatically. But statistics aren’t destiny. If even one person in a million can do something, then that one person can be you.

And it starts with saying that it is. Whether you believe it or not in your “true heart” or whatever garbage that is, you have to start by looking in the mirror and saying that you are not a slave to the pattern of your prior actions.

Some people might say, “sure, I can change my eating habits and my anger management and whatever else, but you have to stay true to your core values.”

Hogwash. Maybe your core values are garbage and you should change them!

Christian Picciolini’s “core values” were Be A Nazi. Those are bad core values! And then he changed them, and that’s way better.

Saying you have to “be true to yourself” is one of the most insidious forms of status quo bias. It’s giving more weight to your current beliefs than any other set, just because they’re your current beliefs. Don’t do that. Assume, at every point, that you can do better.

With your thoughts. With your actions. With your behaviors, your goals, and especially your values. Improve them and sharpen them. I have what I believe to be good values that make the world in general a better place. But I’m humble enough to recognize: so did Christian Picciolini. Maybe I’m wrong. And so I live to those values, but I also test them by listening to others, being open-minded, looking for the smartest people that I disagree with and seeing if they’ll talk to me.

All that, and no sugar. To thine better self, pursue.