There are times when a good memory is distinctly unhelpful. An example is my vacation to Antarctica in 2008, which now seems like a lifetime ago.

One year in advance I had chartered a ship and invited family and friends to join me. A few months before we left for the trip, the worldwide investment firm Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy. What followed was either “The Great Recession” if you kept your job and home, or “The Second Great Depression” if you lost your job or your home. My business promptly began to lose large amounts of money instead of doing what I think it always should do – operate at a profit.

But I had made a large nonrefundable deposit on the charter, and decided to make the trip despite the additional smaller cost, over and above my deposit.

That two-week trip was one of the best vacations of my life.

Part of the reason I enjoyed it so much was that I erased the cost from my mind. Of course, it’s like erasing a file on your computer – the file isn’t really gone, just the pointers to it. So though I remembered the dollars from time to time, my memory was eased by the theory of sunk cost which says that money already spent is gone forever.  For this reason I find it useful to focus on today and on the future, rather than the past.

We each make decisions all of the time, if only when to get out of bed in the morning or what to eat for breakfast. Virtually every alternative (stay in bed vs. get up; plain yogurt vs. a croissant) has plusses and minuses. If I stay in bed all day I will have more work to catch up with tomorrow. A buttered croissant might taste better than a yogurt, but it comes with many more calories. There is no act that any of us can take in life without both sacrificing the alternatives and incurring some cost (if only the cost of our time).

We all have to make decisions, but after I make a decision I choose to focus not on its price, but on its reward. This is how I maximize the enjoyment of my life.

I’m sure you can immediately think of examples in your own life where Erase will be helpful, such as forgetting a few sunk costs (financial or emotional) which are unpleasant to remember.

I suggest you use the People Tool of Erase to add to your enjoyment of every moment, every single day.

Alan

Running your life is very much like running a business, and this blog contains ideas and stories from my own life to help you do exactly that—to live your life well.

When I was very young I knew that I was supposed to be a writer.  I’m now seventy-six, and have taken a long detour to finally become who I’m supposed to be.  Geoffrey Chaucer observed more than six hundred years ago that the craft of life takes long to learn, and Emily Dickinson added, more than four hundred years later, each day our life is lit, a little at a time.

At work, at home, or in the company of friends, we might play different roles, but our essential qualities endure.

By observing your own “belt buckle” (People Tool Number 6 in the original book People Tools) your actions will reveal who you are and if you remain open the true essence of your nature will emerge.

I began my business life as a math tutor one evening when my high school debating partner had something better to do and asked me to take his place.  I loved the money, twice the minimum wage at the time, and came to love the teaching.

Even then I realized I loved helping others and that there are three concentric circles of influence.  First, my family and friends.  We see each other often and influence each other greatly.  Second, those I mentor.  We see each other less frequently and for shorter periods of time (until we become friends).  Our influence on each other is less, but still considerable.  Third, those who know me through my writing. My influence as a writer may be diluted by time and distance, but it is focused and circulated more widely, potentially for many years.

I was delighted when a former employee, Rina, re- introduced herself to me at the end of a book signing for my first People Tools book.

“Remember me?  I was your legal secretary when I was nineteen years old.”

I did.  I recognized her smile.

“I remember,” she said, “that whenever I came in late you would tap your watch and say, ‘You’re one minute late,’ or ‘You’re two minutes late.’”

“I did?”

“Yes.  But you also complimented me when I was on time.”

“Thank goodness.  I hope I’ve learned a thing or two since then. I wouldn’t criticize you today for being late.”

“Today I would be on time.  I was nineteen then.  You taught me a lot.  I didn’t appreciate most of it until I was older.”

We chatted.  I reflected on what Rina had shared, that she and I are both very different people from who we were forty years ago.

Today in my life I seldom feel the need to tap my watch or to blame.  I don’t criticize people for being late.  I just recognize that we each have difficulties and differences.  I now feel more compassion, including compassion for myself. This entire blog is essentially about compassion.

And my goal every week is to help you through the challenges of your life, so you can realize your full potential and climb as far as you possibly can.

Alan