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Two Lives Become One

Hello Bill,

I enjoyed attending your webinar the other night. While the information wasn't new to someone who has been a devout Coffeehouse Investor for six years already, it's always good to review the material. I believe so strongly in the Coffeehouse's philosophy that I've bought many copies of your book to give away. Right now there are many family members and friends' family members who are graduating from college. Each one receives a copy of your book and a check to get started from my wife and I. Wish I had been given such advice and a check to start with when I was their age.

Gene

For the past 20 years, Coffeehouse Investors like Gene have taken it upon themselves to change the world.

One investor at a time.

I never met Gene, but he sent me this e-mail about 10 years ago. Together, we have redefined the ground rules of investing by using low-cost index funds as building blocks for our portfolios. His e-mail is a reminder that all of us have an opportunity to touch peoples' lives in a profound way.

Now, the Energy of the Universe is asking us to do more. It is time to redefine the ground rules for a life of wealth and happiness.

• Save
• Invest
• Plan

We are asked to share these simple ground rules to nudge the global community forward and stay in sync with the unfolding universe. That is what Coffeehouse Investors are all about: taking control of your financial destiny to get on track, stay on track, and make a difference in the world.

Imagine what you could do with your life if your financial resources created harmony - not anxiety - in your pursuit of wealth and happiness. The world needs you to live your rich life, more than ever before.

When I look back over the past 20 years, Tony stands out as one example of someone who lives a life of wealth and happiness. I have watched Tony's life unfold, partly because his father, a cousin of mine, has kept me in the loop. Tony didn't pursue a career in home construction, like his father, nor a job in banking, like his grandfather. Inspired by his mother, he decided on a career in education. He wanted to teach, but he wanted more. He decided to broaden his reach and become a principal. Now he wants to broaden his reach even more and is working on his doctorate in one of the most challenging school districts in Washington State.

We will explore society's pursuit of "more" in Chapter 8, but for Tony, his pursuit of "more" nudges the global community in the right direction. Somewhere along the way, he and his wife Katie arrived at a harmony between saving for tomorrow and living their rich life today. Along the way, he was introduced to the Coffeehouse investment philosophy, and they slowed down their lives enough to make sure they are on track, allowing themselves the freedom to move forward in life, doing what they do best - raising children, teaching children, and touching lives.

Tony would probably say, "If I can do it, anyone can do it." It's all about the ground rules. Save. Invest. Plan. Tony's story is not exceptional, and that is what being a Coffeehouse Investor is all about - ordinary people living extraordinary lives and making a difference. An essential part of Tony's journey - an essential part of all our journeys - is finding the elusive harmony between planning for tomorrow and living a life of wealth and happiness today.

Behind Tony's easy-going smile is a knack for tuning in to the Energy of the Universe. I admire that; there was a time in my life when I wish I had done the same.

When I graduated from college in 1982, I was pulled in two different directions - wanting to pursue my own interest in computers and wanting a relationship with my father. I grew up in a small farming community in eastern Washington, and, like most boys, I just wanted to connect with my father. Even though I was fascinated with this new thing called a personal computer, my father loved following the stock market, and so I chose a career that fascinated my father instead of pursuing my own interest in computers.

After college, I moved to Seattle to begin my career as a stockbroker for the Wall Street firm Smith Barney. I set a goal for myself of making 100 cold calls a day, trying to capture clients and generate commissions for the firm.

It was a tough job making 100 cold calls every day, dealing with the rejection, and then doing it again the next day, and the day after that. I thought it would get easier over time, and I would become immune to the rejection as I built up my clients, but it only got worse. I felt empty emotionally and, every day, on that long walk from the bus stop to the office in downtown Seattle, my heart was telling me I needed a change.

It would be easy to look back and say that it was a mistake to pursue a Wall Street career, and stick with it as long as I did, but now it seems it was meant to be.

I hated cold calling the most. The cold-calling experts told us if we persevered through 95 rejections to gain 5 potential clients, it was a success, and to some stockbrokers, it was a formula for success. Not me. Early on, I turned away from the cold-calling and did what a lot of college graduates do when they are trying to figure things out. I called Mom.

In her infinite wisdom, she said .

"Get involved."

And so I did. I volunteered to coach a boys' youth basketball team. And then I volunteered to coach a girls' volleyball team. I signed up to answer phones on the Seattle crisis line. I joined a neighborhood baseball team. I served food at homeless shelters. I signed up for a mountaineering class and then a cooking class.

Even though I was miserable at work, I found meaning in those activities. I fell in love with the mountains, the water, and, most of all, the people of Seattle, but I still hated cold-calling. Selling stocks was a commission-driven business, and the idea of helping clients reach their financial goals never registered with the management of the brokerage firm.

Although I was a failure at selling stocks, I discovered I was good at getting clients to buy bonds. In the early 1980s, the people I was calling in the wealthy neighborhoods of Seattle didn't want stocks; they wanted AA-rated tax-free bonds with great yields - and back then, they were great yields. My cold-calling script went something like this .

Hi, this is Bill from Smith Barney. The State of Washington is issuing a AA-rated tax-free bond next week with a great yield on it, do you want any?

These people didn't care if I was a Bill, Bob, or Brian. All they heard was

• Smith Barney
• State of Washington
• AA-rated
• Great yield

When I finished calling the wealthy neighborhoods of Seattle, I called the wealthy neighborhoods of Portland, Oregon, where my pitch worked just as well.

• Smith Barney
• State of Oregon
• AA-rated
• Great yield

These investors didn't want the risk of stocks. They wanted a secure stream of income.

I eventually had clients in several states across the nation, was making a good living as one of Smith Barney's largest municipal bond brokers, but I still had that empty feeling inside. Looking back, that emptiness was simply the Energy of the Universe nudging me to pursue a richer life. I had no idea what was in store for me, but after 10 years of selling bonds, I had to make a change.

My decision to quit my job was prompted by a discussion I had with the dad of one of my volleyball players. As the executive director of Hospice of Seattle, he invited me to serve on the hospice community advisory board. I also worked as a hospice volunteer, connecting with residents, listening to their stories, and holding their hands.

Looking back, that experience of holding hands and listening to stories allowed me to embrace my own mortality. The wisdom of Confucius sums up the emotions I felt in meeting with hospice residents.

A man has two lives to live, and the second one begins when he realizes he only has one.

The more time I spent connecting with hospice residents, the more I came to grips with my one life to live. I needed to make a change, and that was the motivation to end my career at Smith Barney.

I knew it was the right decision, but it was still an empty feeling, stepping away from a job in finance with nothing in front of me to pursue. I felt like I had wasted 10 years of my life. It didn't help that I had three brothers and four sisters who were raising families and doing great things with their lives. That made me feel even more lost, and so I packed my bags and moved 70 miles north of Seattle, to a little town called La Conner. In that little town I had the same feelings of isolation and confusion I endured when I first moved to Seattle, but this time I had a game plan.

I got involved.

I climbed mountains; I volunteered at a hospital; I took classes and taught classes, while contemplating my next steps. I signed up for the two-day Seattle to Portland (STP) bike ride, and after a long first day of biking, at the halfway point, our biking crew spent the night at a Jesuit retreat house. Late in the evening, I had a conversation with Alexis, a spiritual counselor. When I shared my emptiness with her, she gently responded, "When you return to La...