DYING WITH ZERO & SPENDING IT WHILE YOU CAN
I've been on a reading junket lately. That usually means I'm toggling between two different types of books: self development and personal finance/investing.
But I have never read a single book that is a hybrid of both genres, until now.
Die With Zero by Bill Perkins, is a step-by-step plan for LIVING a full life, by DYING with nothing.
It's equal parts excel spreadsheet and personal manifesto.
Now, I've read more than my fair share of books on investing, and I can read a balance sheet as well as the next person; however, this was a first for me—a book that makes a compelling case not to save, not prepare for the future, and not worry about what you leave behind - but how you live before you go.
Ok, I'm listening...
The central idea is simple, but wonderfully disruptive: don't spend your entire life stockpiling resources only to run out of time—or health—to actually enjoy them.
Despite the title, Perkins isn't advocating recklessness. He's not suggesting you torch your 401(k) and book a one-way ticket to somewhere tropical, although that sounds pretty good to me right now.
He says there is a causational relationship between saving and spending that impacts a life in ways that can't always be measured with a calculator or a formula.
He suggests balancing the two – saving your money for the future, but also investing some of it the now, meaningful experiences that will leave a lasting impact on you and your world. He calls the lifelong benefit "memory dividend."
That's the part that got me. A memory dividend. I understood the power of dividends in money, but had not thought about it in memories. But, he actually uses money, to justify spending money to help grow your "memory dividends."
Perkins says memories and experiences accrue life-long dividends that benefit you more the longer you have them. A trip at 35 isn't just a trip at 35. It's a fifty years of remembering it. The people you met, the places you traveled and the way it shaped you as a person. These experiences impact the way you think, the ways you live, and the way you parent. As you spend more time benefitting from that trip investment, the value of the dividend grows.
Now here's the sobering part.
Perkins believes the optimal window for many peak life experiences is between ages 25 and 45. Statistically speaking, that's when you have enough resources to do interesting things and enough vitality to truly enjoy them. After that, he argues, the curve starts to bend and bend quickly.
Money and health must be in alignment.
He further states that data suggests the most precipitous decline in life (for most people) occurs between 58 and 68 years old. Given that I am currently 58, that was a sobering wake-up call.
So… ummm. This just got uncomfortable.
But that's the point. BE UNCOMFORTABLE.
The book forces you to confront a reality most of us politely ignore: there are seasons for certain experiences. Some adventures are better tackled when your knees still cooperate. Some risks are more fun when you're not calculating recovery time. Some challenges are meant for a version of you that exists right now—not "someday."
So why am I talking about this?
Next week, I will travel to New York City to watch my son's band perform at Carnegie Hall. More than just a concert, I will be leading the band in a work I commissioned my friend Robert Sheldon to write on behalf of my twin brother Todd. Conducting a world-premier, at Carnegie Hall, is a moment every conductor dreams of.
This is something I have wanted to do for decades, but failed to.
I have always "wanted" to do this, but I suppose I lacked the "will" to get it done. I long ago developed a working title/theme. I had a motif in mind, and thought of it often during long plane flights and drives to workshops. I even knew who I wanted as the composer, and had shared the idea over coffee, but failed to make the commitment.
Something always got in the way – time, money, logistics, life, etc.
When my son's band director announced the trip, it served not only as an opportunity, but a wake-up call.
What was I waiting for?
Why did I let this project linger so long?
How much longer would I have waited had Carnegie Hall not come along?
This concert served as a moment of clarity - an opportunity to create a "memory dividend" for myself, my family and the student performers.
That's a dividend that will grow in importance, not just for me, but for my family, and the performers as well.
Not all moments are so clear. Not every opportunity comes with a historic venue, a world-class composer, and a chance to experience it all with family. AND TO BE CLEARI alone did not do this.
I owe a debt of gratitude to my son's Band Director, Miles Denny. His generosity in allowing me this opportunity is something I will never forget. And without my dear friend Robert Sheldon - this project would have never seen the light of day.
But it took a big ole' bucket of opportunity for me to wake up and bring this project home. Unfortunately, most decisions don't have such obvious go signals.
It made me wonder: what other projects had I missed, signs I had not seen, and memories I had failed to make? If I'm being honest, more than I would like – but perhaps less than you might think. I have a pretty high tolerance for risk and can compartmentalize failure, thus allowing me to endure defeat without the associated humiliation. I can list my failures – there's plenty of them.
But that's me. What about you? Are you harboring a secret dream or hidden passion?
Remember - regardless of where you are in your career, every season, year, and career it is a ticking clock with a finite window of opportunity. And while you may be physically able, the law of time and experience will do its best to dampen your inner dreamer.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
I say you should take the leap.
Commission the piece. Start the ensemble. Write the book. Launch your podcast. Start your side hustle. Run for a state position. Learn the new technology. Apply for the grant. Say yes to something that makes your heart beat a little faster.
Because in the end, your career won't be measured by how carefully you conserved your energy or how cautiously you protected your calendar. It will be measured in moments—standing ovations, shared laughter in rehearsal, and exceptional moments that required you to dare to dream.
We teach students to make sound boldly and beautifully. Let's show them how it's done!
Spend it while you can!
Have a great week!
Scott