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A hill I’m willing to die on: Nothing will improve your quality of life more than proximity to people you love. It’s worth more than any job will ever pay you.

A Reflection on the Little Things (Why we're moving to Boston) You're going to see your parents 15 more times before they die. In 2021, that simple statement, which later became the opening line of my book, changed my life. My wife and I were living in California at the time, 3,000 miles away from our parents. I had been there for 12 years––a college baseball scholarship had brought me out West, and then a lucrative job opportunity had kept me there. In a lot of ways, that felt fine. Growing up, if you're fortunate enough to have healthy parents, your default assumption is that they're immortal. Obviously, you know they're not, but the idea of mortality becomes a conceptual or intellectual one, not a visceral reality you've really contemplated. As you get older, you realize: The answers you seek in life are found in the questions you avoid. When I was confronted with that simple math––of the number of moments I had remaining with my parents––it forced me to confront one of those questions I had been avoiding. What were my real priorities? And were my actions aligned with those priorities? You see, there are two types of priorities in life: 1. The priorities we say we have; and 2. The priorities our actions show we have. And often there's a big gap between the two. I know. I was living it. Your life improves alongside your ability to close that gap. But you can't close it until you acknowledge that it exists in the first place. I saw the gap and knew that if something didn't change, we were going to end up with a life we never wanted. So, within 45 days, my wife and I took a dramatic action. We uprooted our life in California and moved back East with the goal of living within driving distance of both sets of parents and my sister, who were all in Boston. My wife's job agreed to move her to the NYC office––and with my decision to take a leap of faith into pursuing writing and entrepreneurship, the suburbs outside the city seemed like a good interim landing spot. It wasn't perfect––around three hours from Boston––but we made it work. We were blessed with our son, Roman, in 2022. My wife took a step back from her career to focus on being a mom. My new path was bringing me energy and opportunities I never imagined. And we were spending time with our parents multiple times per month, albeit with someone driving a long way to do so. For the first time in over a decade, life felt like it was in flow. But somewhere along the way, that changed... When you're young, you grow accustomed to focusing on the big things in life. The celebrations. The birthdays. The weddings. The events. The weekend escapes. One way I think about this youthful mindset is that the meaning you derive from any given activity is effectively proportional to the scale of your investment in it. I noticed that every single time we were seeing our families, it had, by virtue of the long drive investment required, been for something big. We couldn't casually get together on a Tuesday evening for a walk, so we got together for the birthdays, the long weekends, the anniversaries, and the holidays instead. And we slowly, silently, slipped into a life focused on the big. Author Kurt Vonnegut once wrote: "Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things." I think the first time I really noticed it was this spring. My parents decided to drop by our house on their way home from a weekend visiting their dear friends in the area. It was one of those perfect spring evenings. The smell. The sounds. Everything. I had cooked dinner for all of us. Laughter and conversation flowed. When dinner ended, I found myself sitting alone, sipping a glass of wine, watching as my son chased my parents around the backyard. The joy on his face only surpassed by the beaming smiles on theirs. In that moment, I had a realization: This was it. It wasn't big or glamorous. It was a little thing that meant everything. A few weeks later, we drove to Boston for my wife's grandmother's funeral. After the service, we loaded ourselves back into the car for the three hour drive home. There's something about death that brings extraordinary clarity to life. In that moment, my wife and I locked eyes and uttered the same striking thought: We should move to Boston. To be there for the big, but more importantly, for the little. I want to be able to go for a walk with my dad to get his thoughts on a challenge I'm facing. I want to be able to take my sister out for a coffee. I want to be able to grab lunch on a Tuesday with my mom, just because. I want to be able to see my son play dinosaurs with all of his grandparents on a Wednesday morning. None of that is big. But that's ok. Because the real texture of life, the real meaning of life, is found in the little. We live in an era where authenticity is at an all time low. Many of the people we see talking about a thing don't actually live by it. I refuse to be a part of that trend. If I'm going to talk about it, I'm going to be about it. I want you to be able to trust that I live by the words I write and speak. So, this week, just a few short months later, we did it. We packed our life into two moving trucks, sold our house, and hit the road for the drive to Boston, one last time. After 20 years of being spread out across the country––of being forced into a focus on the big––my entire family is going to live in the same area again. A new adventure. A whole new world. Little things that become big things. I'll end with a quick story... A few weeks ago, I drove my son to run an errand at the grocery store before heading to my in-laws' house for dinner. He asked where we were going. I said, "Home." He looked at me, confused, "Why do you call it home? That's not home, that's Mimi's house." My response: "Home is wherever there are people you love." He smiled, satisfied, and just said, "Oh!" So, here's the truth: We're moving home. And I couldn't be happier about it.

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Always carry yourself like your life matters. Because it does. Stand tall. Walk with confidence. Make eye contact. Take care of your body. Be present. Think independently. Listen before you speak. Bet on yourself. If you do that, the world will start bending to your will.

So much of success comes down to just being someone who cares. Cares to push a little bit more. To do the little bit extra. To show up with a little more energy. It doesn’t require talent or intelligence. There’s a lot of upside there, simply because so few will do it.

Your entire life will change when you start to embrace what most people avoid. Wake up early. Focus. Move your body. Eat real foods. Obsess over one thing. Read old books. Be present. Listen intently. Change your mind. Have difficult conversations. The recipe for a good life.

I’m increasingly convinced that your standards decide your future. Every time you let something slide “just this once,” you train yourself to accept less. That’s how goals erode. That's how principles slip. Set your standards. Hold the line. Especially when it’s hard.

Underrated life advice: Don’t wait. Take that crazy leap of faith. Say the words now. Tell people you love them. Apologize when you should. Forgive. Everything in life has an expiration date. Opportunities don’t wait until you’re ready. Miss them now and you miss them forever.

Yoshinobu Yamamoto STARTED Game 6 and FINISHED Game 7. BASEBALL! #WorldSeries

The cost of distraction is the life you could’ve lived. If you suffer from distraction, read this. Cal Newport’s protocol for deep work:

When your child is born, create a dear(kidname) at gmail account. Then email them throughout their childhood with milestones, pictures, videos, memories, words of wisdom, etc…and give them the account log-in when they turn 18. Essentially documenting childhood from the viewpoint of their parents. And heaven forbid something happens to one of the parents, they’ll always have those notes from Mom/Dad. We’ve done this for all 3 of our daughters (currently ages 9, 7, and 3). We’ve never logged into the accounts, but it’ll be a priceless gift for everyone once the ‘project’ is complete. I often find myself getting emotional when writing these emails. The thought of my 18-year-old daughters reading notes from a younger version of Dad gets me every time. I sign each email “I’m lucky to be your Dad”. They need to know I felt this way all along. (we got this idea from an old Google commercial called "Dear Sophie" – I’ll try to link to it below)

Nothing meaningful in life is easy. Nothing easy in life is meaningful.

The chart I made to visualize time: Family time is limited—cherish it. Friend time is limited—prioritize real ones. Partner time is significant—never settle. Children time is precious—be present. Coworker time is significant—find energy. Alone time is highest—love yourself.

A concept that changed my life. The Time Billionaire:

1/ Get a cup of coffee. In this thread, I'll walk you through "Gambler's Ruin". This is a classic exercise in probability theory. But going beyond the math, this exercise can teach us a lot about life, business, and investing.

Your future needs you. Your past doesn't.

If you pick stocks, you MUST learn how to read a Cash Flow Statement. Here’s everything you need to know:

5 Lies We Often Tell Ourselves: 1. "I know what I'm doing..." 2. "I can make him/her change..." 3. "I'd do it if I had more time..." 4. "Nobody would understand..." 5. "I need this to be happy..."

The Feynman Technique (how to learn anything):

Being a new manager is scary. 60% fail within 18 months. 15 principles that will put you in the top 1%:

1/ Thread: Musings in a bear market Today I presented some of my thoughts on this bear market with "Google Value Investment Club". Sharing my slides on twitter.