“Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.”
— Epictetus

I walked into the Charles Schwab office alone this week, still holding onto last week’s realization, the one I wrote about in All In. Going all in is powerful, but only if you know what you are going all in on.

I’ve pictured the future many times, but mainly from a comfortable distance.

Build something meaningful. Take care of the people I love. Leave room for opportunity.

It’s a nice way to think, broad enough that every version of life still fits if you squint.

But about ten minutes into the meeting, the advisor, a woman with a calm, matter-of-fact way of asking questions that do not feel optional, looked up and asked:

“So, how do you define enough?”

The room went quiet as I paused, thinking how to answer.

Imagining a future is one thing. Answering for it is another.

I’ve made big decisions before. Moving countries. Shifting careers. Stepping into uncertainty without the luxury of perfect timing. But none of those choices required what this question did. I had to narrow the frame, say something out loud, and watch the picture change the moment the words left my mouth.

As I tried to answer, I could feel how much everything depended on the specifics I named.

Some versions felt within reach. Others felt like they belonged to a different decade of my life.

Part of why this felt unfamiliar is simple. I didn’t grow up with excess. My family was steady, but it wasn’t stress-free.

In my early twenties, every extra dollar went toward paying down student loans. Debt felt like something to eliminate, not something to work with.

I still remember a friend buying a condo pre-construction a few years after school. A smart move. I never even went to look. Not because I couldn’t, but because the idea itself felt foreign. When you grow up with financial pressure, the instinct leans toward protection, not possibility.

I am also learning that even showing up to a meeting like this requires a different kind of preparation, one I avoided for years. Being caught up on the unglamorous parts of life, the documents, the taxes, the budgets, the endless passwords and multi-factor authentications, is not my idea of a good Sunday.

But there is a quiet sense of accomplishment in getting organized enough to face your life directly. It is its own kind of maturity. And in hindsight, the avoidance had been heavier than the work.

The truth is, there are moments when it feels almost embarrassing to admit what you do not know, especially when people assume you know far more.

I have advised CEOs on long-term business investments while still having questions about my personal retirement strategy. Part of me wishes I had learned this earlier, or that school had prepared me better. But I started where I started, and I am where I am.

What matters now is that I am willing to learn without letting ego get in the way.

There is something freeing about finally stepping into a space you avoided for years and realizing the only thing that ever stopped you was believing you had to know everything already.

There is another frame we all likely recognize: those posts comparing what the same amount of money buys in two completely different places. A soft kind of escapism.

What feels insufficient in one city can truly be an abundance in another. And some of you have made that move to Spain, Costa Rica, Mexico and other ‘lower-cost, better lifestyle’ countries.

It is a reminder of something real. “Enough” can shift dramatically depending on the frame you are standing inside.

As Chris Rock once joked, “If Bill Gates woke up with Oprah’s money, he would jump out the window.” The number is the same. The feeling isn’t. What is enough for you?

My wife and I are still working through these questions. We do not need every answer right now. Some of it will change. But being able to talk about it gives us a shared direction, steadier than drifting through two unspoken assumptions.

Somewhere this week, things shifted. I was keeping every door open because options feel safer than outcomes. At some point, though, options stop being freedom and start being counterproductive. You need to pick a lane.

There is a concept in behavioral science called future self–continuity.

It refers to how real your future self feels to your present self. People who can imagine that future clearly tend to make decisions that serve them. Not because they are more disciplined, but because they are planning for someone they actually recognize.

That is what shifted for me. The future stopped being hypothetical. It became someone I felt responsible for.

Most plans come down to a handful of things: family, education, where you live, how you spend your time, and the pace you want your days to carry. But beneath all of it is a quieter question.

Are you living for potential or for your life?

Potential keeps every door open. It never forces a choice.

A life has edges. Those edges are what make it real.

In that quiet office, I realized how easy it is to stay loyal to motion rather than to direction. It is possible to be All In on progress without ever choosing the life that progress is supposed to serve.

Defining “enough” sharpens the horizon. It turns the future into someone you feel responsible for, someone you want to meet with pride.

Most people aren’t lost. They are standing at a crossroads with every destination still on the map.

Choose the one that feels like yours, and the next steps start to show themselves.

Until next Sunday,
Eric

P.S. If you haven’t named your version of “enough” out loud yet, try it this week, even if it feels early. Clarity grows faster once it leaves your head.