I think I have finally come to terms with the fact that I would someday like to complete a masters degree. The subjects I prefer to study are not practical, likely will not make a dramatic impact on the world, and are not especially lucrative, but I simply can’t get over the fact that I would like to study one at a higher level.
I figured out how to frame this, too: if I only have 5 years to live, then there’s really no point to earning a masters degree. But if I have 50 years to live, I would be a bit disappointed in myself to reach the end of my life and not have achieved the study of one of my favorite subjects at that level. And I think this is a very important distinction to make.
See, some people say that you should live your life as if every day is your last. Any day certainly could be your last, but if you consult the actuarial tables and happen to be my age, you might see that the chances of this are fairly slim. But ultimately, living this way is kind of stupid. If you actually lived as if every day were your last, you would never achieve any long-term goals. College? Why bother! Finishing that difficult carpentry project you’ve always wanted to finish? No point! Saving up money for that big trip? Too long, life’s too short! You get the idea. Gosh, I would hate to look back on a life and see nothing but short-term goals and short-term rewards. Sure, there’s no guarantee you will live long enough to achieve your long-term goals, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have any.
And this is slowly influencing my personal philosophy of money, too. Not too long ago, I was wrestling with what it actually means to be good with money, and it’s not an easy subject. Very slowly, I think I’m starting to think that “being good with money” has far more to do with the proper allocation of funds based on known and established priorities. Being a penny-pincher has its virtues, but not if you’re refusing medical care because you hate the thought of paying anything to see a doctor. This would be a misallocation of priorities. If you need to see a doctor and you refuse, well, your money doesn’t do you any good if you’re dead. In such a case, being good with your money would mean getting the proper care. On the flip side, though, if you’re so terrified and obsessed with your health that you simply refuse to buy that mug in a visitor’s center that really warms your heart, or you refuse to pay $5 to get coffee with a friend, your obsession has probably taken you beyond a reasonable concern with health, another form of misallocation. On a side note, I try to learn from my money mistakes and improve, but I think it’s ultimately best to forgive yourself for past expenses and move on, too.
To elaborate on this a little bit, if you don’t have money for a new car, buying a new car would be a misappropriation of funds. Alternatively, not taking care of your existing car, even if you have the funds, because you’re being cheap, could be its own misappropriation. I’m stuck in a nasty habit of buying, almost daily, caffeinated energy drinks. Although I have the money, they are expensive and completely unnecessary. I very much like them, but I don’t think they bring some particular joy to my life that I couldn’t do without. I’d feel they were less wasteful if I only had one or two per week.
In my case, realizing I do someday want to complete a masters degree, it’s fair to say that it’s definitely not the most important thing in my life, but should I be blessed with a long life, it’s definitely something I would like to do. As far as I’m aware, God has not called me to do this, so as such, it’s something I simply hope to do in the future when other priorities allow it, and I suspect this won’t be the case for the next 5-10 years, but who knows?
The real value of FIRE and the quest for it I think stems from the focus on the proper allocation of money. It is not, “I can’t buy expensive things”, but more, “buying cheap or expensive things I never use is a waste”. More than raw savings, efficiency is the key. Which is not to ignore raw savings (which has a direct impact on whether you achieve financial independence or not), but that efficiency tends naturally to save money in the first place. As Jacob Fisker has said, the most expensive tool is the one you never use.
As times goes by, I sometimes fear that I’m not doing all of the things I want. Winter is already over, snow is getting slushy, and I haven’t done all of the snowshoeing I want. Part of me dreads this because I don’t know if I will still live in Colorado by this time next year. Every place I have gone snowshoeing is a place I don’t completely know I will ever return to.
But you can’t slow time down. You can only hope to look back on time spent and feel good about it. So while it can be good to push yourself, I’m really trying to simply let go of this idea that I’m responsible for slowing time down, because that’s not possible. And I’m not a hyper-achiever. I simply don’t have the interest or desire to micro-manage my time to “do stuff”, as much as I want to use my time wisely. This is a hard balance to strike because society showers praise upon high-achievers, and I’m wrestling with what it means to not be a high-achiever, while still wanting to accomplish things on my own terms.