1+1=?

Advisors today will tell you that 1 + 1 = 2.

These advisors—boy, are they smart.
And boy, are they wrong.

One way to distinguish myself from this group of formulaic professionals would be to claim I have the right answer. To plant my flag, polish my pitch, and sell you my solution. I choose a different path. One I find much more interesting.

To say I hold the secret to a happy retirement or the blueprint for perfect risk management would be like claiming Orville Wright was the greatest pilot who ever lived.
Sure, he flew. But what matters more: the fact that he flew, or that he believed flight was possible?

There is no value in selling solutions unless you possess the problem.

In my first few years of advising, I’ve seen patterns emerge and truths unfold—some breathtaking in their simplicity, others uncomfortable in their depth.

One of my favorite lessons so far is this:
1 + 1 does not always equal 2.

This truth was hard to grasp. Not because it’s complicated, but because it forced me to unlearn something that had been true for so long. My own mind resisted it. My identity did too. I had to let go of certainty. I had to look foolish.

But in doing so, I discovered something much more valuable than the “correct answer.”

I discovered that real intelligence—the kind that compounds over decades—is built not on knowing, but on creating.
Again and again.

I find no joy in being the guy who can confidently answer, “What’s 1 + 1?”

I find joy in becoming the kind of person who learns to use the tools:
The “+” and the “=.” With care. With humility. With patience.

Because the real test isn’t just what we know.
It’s how we choose to arrive at what’s worth knowing.