Author: Don McMinn

Most things are differently valued by those who have them and by those who wish to get them: what belongs to us, and what we give away, always seems very precious to us. — Aristotle

The endowment effect (also known as divestiture aversion) is the finding that people are more likely to retain an object they own than acquire that same object when they do not own it. For instance, if I own a bread maker I’m reluctant to discard it, even though if I didn’t own one I wouldn’t buy one. 

The endowment effect (EE) also asserts that we overvalue things we own. For instance, if we decide to sell our house we’re usually overly optimistic regarding it’s worth. We overvalue something we own regardless of its objective market value. EE runs rampant if we have an emotional or symbolic attachment to something—I’m likely to overvalue a painting that was painted by my mother. 

Research has identified two main psychological causes of the endowment effect:

• Ownership: Studies have shown that people will value something they already own more than a similar item they do not own, much in line with the adage, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” It does not matter if the object in question was purchased or received as a gift; the effect still holds.
• Loss aversion: We tend to hold onto things we own, even though relinquishing them at a loss would be the better choice. This is why investors often hold onto unprofitable assets; the prospect of divesting at the prevailing market value does not meet their perceptions of its value. We often hold onto things that we should sell at a loss. 

In short, we overvalue what we own.

We even overvalue, and are reluctant to jettison, our personal ideologies and convictions. If I have embraced a particular theory, philosophy, or principle most of my life, I’ll be hesitant to analyze its validity and even more reluctant to change positions because I’ve invested so much in it. For instance, people seldom change their political beliefs later in life because we have so much emotional and intellectual currency invested in them. 

This relates to another topic: our reluctance to change. Over time, who we are and what we think and do become so engrained that we’re unwilling to entertain change and may even become unaware of other possibilities. 

To make this post practical, let’s think of of what we “own” and simply reassess each item’s value. Is there an item, relationship, viewpoint, habit, or investment that we should reevaluate and then reduce or discard? This exercise will help affirm and solidify those things in our life that we believe to be true and valuable. It will lead to a fresh and renewed commitment to things we hold dear.

A must-read article

I like to read Adam Grant’s thoughts. I’ve read most of his books, and his article titled The Science of Changing Someone’s Mind (New York Times, January 31, 2021) is insightful and helpful.

“How did you go bankrupt?” Bill asked.

“Two ways,” Mike said. “Gradually and then suddenly.”

[Dialogue from Ernest Hemingway’s 1926 novel, The Sun Also Rises.]

Some things in life happen suddenly, with no forewarning. Like car accidents.

But usually, small actions, repeated over time, gradually accumulate and then suddenly morph into something big. Like the guys putting rubber bands around a watermelon. It happens gradually, then suddenly. Hemingway wrote that bankruptcy can follow this path, and we also see the pattern in other areas of life.

This dynamic can be either harmful or beneficial. Multiple, unwise small actions can lead to major problems.

• Use your credit card indiscriminately on a regular basis and eventually you’ll be in financial trouble. 
• Consume a few more calories than you burn day after day, and you may become obese.  
• Neglect relationships and they’ll turn sour.

But multiple positive, small actions can lead to significant and good results.

• Doggedly abide by an annual budget, get out of debt, and save for retirement, and you’ll have financial peace and security.
• Restrict your food intake and exercise regularly and you’ll enjoy a healthy lifestyle. Calories in/calories out; it’s just math.
• Deliberately prioritize and cultivate important relationships, and you’ll “never walk alone.”

The Bible uses an agricultural analogy to explain a similar phenomenon: the Law of the Harvest: “Whatever a person sows, this he will also reap” (Galatians 6:7). Notice:

• You reap what you sow. If a farmer sows corn seed, he’ll reap corn. You can’t plant corn seeds and expect to get broccoli. 
• You reap later than you sow. After the seed is planted it seems like nothing happens for a long time, but eventually fruit comes.
• You reap more than you sow. A single seed produces a lot of corn. There’s an exponential return. (In finances, it’s called compound interest.)

Identify some small tasks that you persistently do (both good and bad) that may accumulate and cause a major event. Drop the ones that are heading in the wrong direction an accelerate the good ones.

My family is teaching my six-year-old grandson, Benjamin, how to read and how to perform simple math. A key factor that determines the length of his lessons is how long he’s able to concentrate. He’s good for about 10 minutes, after which he needs to do something else (play games on the iPad, walk the dog). Then he’s ready for another lesson. His ability to focus will increase with age; that’s part of the maturation process.  

As a matter of self-awareness, all of us should determine how long we can concentrate on a single event. Then we should experiment with the Pomodoro Technique, a proven time-management method, to find our optimum routine.

The Pomodoro Technique was made popular by Francesco Cirillo. When he was a student at Rome’s Luiss Business School he used a tomato-shaped kitchen timer to regulate his schedule (pomodoro is an Italian word for tomato). He would work for 25 minutes, take a five-minute break, then repeat. (An added benefit of the Pomodoro Technique is that it presupposes that you’ve made a list of important things to focus on.)

By toggling back and forth between focused work and times of repose, we can extend how long we can work because the break-time (a planned distraction) helps reset our focus and energy. It’s even more effective if the breaks are seen as rewards, not just a change of pace. (Allowing myself a bowl of Blue Bell ice cream is an utterly righteous incentive.)

There’s nothing magical about the 25-5 ratio. Customize the principle based on what is optimum for you. 

First, experiment with your concentration level. How long can you read before losing focus? For how long can you respond to emails until your mind grows numb or begins to wander? Listen to a podcast? Work in the yard? Carry on a conversation? Your ability to concentrate will vary in different settings. 

For instance, years ago I experimented with increasing how long I could read in one sitting. I’ve settled on this routine: I always read three or four books at a time, written on different topics by different authors. I read one for 20 minutes, then switch to another for 20 minutes, and so on. I take a break every 45 minutes and then resume. It helps to have multiple and diverse books to read because I can’t sustain reading one author on one subject for an extended period of time. Using this system, I can read for hours. 

Your level of concentration can be increased. At the beginning of this post I mentioned that my grandson can only focus for about 10 minutes. As he ages, we’ll work on incrementally increasing his level until we discover his maximum. Isn’t it encouraging to know that concentration is a skill that can be developed, much like learning to play tennis or a musical instrument?   

Here are some practical steps:

1. Embrace the importance of being able to concentrate and focus. It can greatly enhance your productivity.
2. Assess your current capacity to focus in various settings.
3. Work on increasing your capacity to focus. 
4. Use the Pomodoro Technique to be more productive.

Having finished writing this post (30 minutes), I’m heading to the backyard to pick some figs.

An interesting article I read this week

A Summit of Their Own  (published in the New York Times, January 24, 2021), tells the story of how a group of Nepalis and Sherpas recently succeeded in summiting the second tallest mountain in the world – K2 – in winter. It had never been done before and was the last great prize of high-altitude mountaineering.

What beauty are we blind to? — Toby Ord

Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town (for which he won a Pulitzer Prize), is about life in Grover’s Corners, a small town in New Hampshire. One of the main characters is Emily Webb. The play follows her from a precocious young girl through her wedding to George Gibbs, and her early death.

In act three, Emily returns from the afterlife and visits her hometown, wanting to relive one day—her 12th birthday. She joyfully watches her parents and some of the people of her childhood, but her joy soon turns to pain as she realizes how little people appreciate the simple joys of life. She realizes how every moment of life—particularly the small, simple, mundane aspects—should be treasured. 

When she visits her grave on the hill, she says, “Good-by, good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners…Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking…and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.” 

She then looks toward the stage manager and asks abruptly, through her tears, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute” The stage manager replies, “No. The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.” The play ends.

I’m admonishing myself in this post. I like to stay busy: I always have a to-do list, I’m goal-oriented, I don’t like to waste time, and I’m inordinately time-sensitive. But I’m missing out on a lot of wonderful things in life. I need to recalibrate my life so that I notice and savor small, slow, and simple things that don’t cry out for my attention but will reward it. 

Things like: Buddy’s bark, Benjamin’s freckles, a perfectly shaped cluster of grapes, a well-tuned chord, holding Mary’s hand, a fresh blackberry, a perfectly still lake, a well-written phrase, a kind gesture, growing a plant from seed, the sound of thunder in the distance, the smell of a sliced lemon, gravity exerting its influence on a tomato plant.

Psychologist Carl Rogers noted, “The good life is a process, not a state of being. It is a direction, not a destination.” He advocated launching “fully into the stream of life.” Our lives will be richer if we embrace adjectives such as enriching, rewarding, awe-inspiring, meaningful, and yes—small, slow, and simple.