If you’re automatically sure that you know what reality is, and you are operating on your default setting, then you, like me, probably won’t consider possibilities that aren’t annoying and miserable. But if you really learn how to pay attention, then you will know there are other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, hot, slow, consumer-hell type situation as not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down.

Not that that mystical stuff is necessarily true. The only thing that’s capital-T True is that you get to decide how you’re gonna try to see it.

This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship…

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.

They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing…

Not being willing to take risks is an extremely risky strategy.

— Magnus Carlsen, #1 ranked chess player globally

Ashley says, “Many positions cannot be won or saved without something of value being given away, from a lowly pawn all the way up to the mighty queen.” Intentionally losing a piece as part of one’s gameplan is the sacrifice that Ashley is referencing.

He describes some sacrifices as “shams,” (a term coined by chess master Rudolf Spielmann in his book The Art of Sacrifice in Chess) where “. . . one can easily see that the piece being given up will return concrete benefits that can be clearly calculated.”

Others are deemed “real” sacrifices, where “. . . giving away a piece offers gains that are neither immediate nor tangible. The return on investment might be controlling more space, creating an assailable weakness in the opponent’s position, or having more pieces in the critical sector of attack.”

The analogy to investing begins to become clear. Buying a 10-year U.S. Treasury note is a modest or “sham” sacrifice. You give up the use of your money for ten years, but that’s only an opportunity cost, and accepting it brings the certainty of interest income. Most other investments involve real sacrifices, though, where the risk of loss is borne in pursuit of “gains that are neither immediate nor tangible.”

By five o’clock, the restaurant was jammed with its first wave of customers, who were excitedly considering what toppings to order—mushrooms, sweet peppers, pepperoni.

The man with the eye patch, Kimura, wasn’t among them. Neither was Alex or Gigi Principe. It turned out that they were all employees of the same line-sitting company, called Same Ole Line Dudes.

“I’ve been called here to wait at least a hundred times,” Kimura had told me. The going rate for an afternoon in line at Lucali is fifty-five dollars, a percentage of which goes to the company.

Baron Tremayne Caple wasn’t ordering pizza either. His table had gone, for a hundred and twenty dollars, to a person named Robin, who’d hired him.

The American engineers complained of rigid, counterproductive hierarchies at the company; Taiwanese TSMC veterans described their American counterparts as lacking the kind of dedication and obedience they believe to be the foundation of their company’s world-leading success…

Several former American employees said they were not against working longer hours, but only if the tasks were meaningful. “I’d ask my manager ‘What’s your top priority,’ he’d always say ‘Everything is a priority,’” said another ex-TSMC engineer. “So, so, so, many times I would work overtime getting stuff done only to find out it wasn’t needed”…

But the American workers didn’t have the same sense of loyalty. In the U.S., engineers had a plethora of job options that provided competitive pay and abundant personal time. The Taiwanese workers described their Phoenix colleagues as arrogant, carefree, and more willing to challenge orders. “It’s hard to get them to do things,” a Taiwanese engineer in Phoenix told Rest of World.