Edric Teo

We often hear that time and energy are our most valuable assets. This idea has been repeated so often that it’s become accepted wisdom. And there’s truth to it – both are finite resources that we can’t replenish. But I’ve come to believe there’s a third asset, equally important yet far less discussed: attention.

Time, energy, and attention each play a distinct role in our lives. Time passes regardless of our efforts; it’s the backdrop against which all else unfolds. Energy is what we expend to accomplish tasks, whether mental or physical. But attention – attention is the lens through which we focus our time and energy.

Consider how we typically think about these resources. We’re acutely aware when someone wastes our time or depletes our energy. But how often do we consider the cost of misplaced attention? It’s a subtle drain, one that we rarely notice in the moment.

The reason attention often goes unmentioned is that it’s perceived as cheap. Advertisers capture it for fractions of a cent. Content creators vie for it with increasingly sensational headlines. We’ve become so accustomed to giving away our attention that we’ve forgotten its value.

But attention is far from cheap. It’s the captain of our personal ship, setting the course for where we direct our time and energy. A small shift in attention, like a tiny adjustment in a golf swing, can lead to dramatically different outcomes over time.

This oversight has real consequences. We carefully budget our time and conserve our energy, but we let our attention scatter to the winds. We end up investing thousands of hours in pursuits that, in retrospect, added little value to our lives. All because we failed to guard our attention as zealously as we guard our time and energy.

The phrase “losing focus” is particularly telling. It implies that our attention naturally wanders, that losing it is inevitable. But this framing absolves us of responsibility. We don’t lose focus so much as relinquish it, often to carefully engineered distractions.

 

“The modern vampire doesn’t suck your blood; it sucks your attention.”

 

In our hyper-connected world, reclaiming our attention has become crucial. Our smartphones – those sleek, pocket-sized supercomputers – are weapons of mass distraction. Every notification, every app, is designed to capture and hold our attention. And they’re very good at it.

So how do we reclaim this vital resource? One approach is to be more deliberate about our information diet. Just as we are the average of the five people we spend the most time with, our thoughts and actions are shaped by the content we consume. Curating this intake more carefully can have profound effects.

Another strategy is to seek out evergreen knowledge – information that remains valuable over time. Much of what we consume – news articles, social media posts, ephemeral trends – has a short half-life. Its relevance decays rapidly. But there are topics – health, relationships, fundamental principles of science and philosophy – that compound in value the more we engage with them.

The intention behind our consumption matters too. It’s easy to fall into passive consumption, letting information wash over us without truly engaging. But true learning, true growth, requires active engagement. It’s the difference between having a podcast on in the background while doing chores and sitting down to listen attentively, taking notes, and reflecting on what you’ve heard.

I’ve experimented with various approaches to managing my attention. One simple but effective method was deactivating my social media accounts for a week. The world, unsurprisingly, continued to turn. Most people, absorbed in their own digital ecosystems, didn’t even notice my absence.

Another tactic I’ve found useful is keeping my phone in “Focus” mode by default, allowing only calls to come through. In an age where most communication happens via text or messaging apps, a phone call usually signifies something important. This simple change has dramatically reduced the number of times my attention is needlessly diverted throughout the day.

The goal isn’t to completely eliminate distractions or to never engage in leisure activities. Rather, it’s to be more intentional about where we direct our attention. It’s about recognizing that every piece of content we consume, every activity we engage in, comes with an opportunity cost. When we say yes to watching a video or scrolling through a feed, we’re saying no to countless other potential uses of that time and mental energy.

In business, there’s a concept of seeking products or services with near-zero marginal cost of duplication. Information often fits this model – once created, it can be distributed to millions at little additional cost. But as consumers of information, we need to consider a different cost: the cost of consumption. Our attention is the price we pay, and it’s a currency we can’t afford to spend frivolously.

It’s worth asking: How will the time you’ve spent reading this benefit you in the long run? Will the ideas here compound, influencing your future decisions about how you allocate your attention? Or will they fade, just another fleeting piece of content in the endless stream?

The answer, of course, depends on what you do next. Will you reflect on these ideas, apply them, test them against your own experience? Or will you simply move on to the next item in your feed?

The choice – and the precious resource of your attention – is yours.

Something clicked while I was reading Poor Charlie’s Almanack, a compilation of Charlie Munger’s speeches over the years. The book highlighted Munger’s approach to investing and, more importantly, his approach to life. While there’s a lot of useful worldly wisdom in there, my greatest takeaway was to have a checklist.

Think of it like an airplane preparing for takeoff. Nothing happens until the preflight check is complete.

It’s simple, yet powerful.

Now, you might hear a lot of people raving about Charlie’s mental models, going through them individually, but not really explaining how to use them as a whole.

Before going into details, what’s a mental model anyway?

Simply put, a mental model is an idea or concept that’s compressed so you can recall and apply it quickly. It’s like design patterns in programming.

But not all mental models are made equal, if we were to rate them, there are only a few that are considered S tier – like “first principle thinking” and “second-order effects“. Such mental models could be applied to any decision-making process. And as I used more of them in my life, I quickly realized that the best general mental models are the ones that generate options.

Another common mental model is confirmation bias, where someone retrofits their beliefs to circumstances. As the saying goes, “If all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.”

I’ll admit, I’ve made rookie mistakes with mental models. I remember having a conversation with a friend who was in a particularly sticky situation. After she shared her story, I asked if I could take a minute to look through my personal notes. I was trying to find a mental model to fit her circumstances.

I messed up for two reasons. First, I was only looking for only one mental model. Second, there might have been other models that could have helped her better. It’s like what Simon Sinek said: instead of looking at strengths and weaknesses, he looks for characteristics and attributes. These become strengths or weaknesses depending on the circumstances.

As more information about mental models becomes readily available, the ultimate goal is to have a set of checklists so that you can use them systematically. There aren’t many S tier mental models and if we want our decision making model to be all-encompassing, we need to include other mental models.

We should see mental models as if they’re like wind: “it extinguishes a candle and energizes fire.” Different models apply differently, and the wonder of Charlie Munger was that he could apply the same concept to various scenarios. In his book, he illustrated how different mental models (including biases) could interact with each other and how the effects of this mixture could help turn millions into billions over time.

When we watch interviews of the G.O.A.T, they are able to articulate their decision making process as if it’s second nature. We might think it’s easy, but it’s not. They’ve gone through a great amount of trial and error before their checklists were shaped to make them the greats they are.

There is also another less obvious benefit of having a checklist and that is it gives you the opportunity to review and refine your decision making process. Could you think of the last time you made a major decision and reviewed how it turned out? Like many aspects of any system, it gets better with a large number of iterations.

So, before you take off towards your next big decision, it’s worthwhile to consider doing a preflight check. Who knows, this simple addition could bring you to greater heights.

The other day, I received a message from a friend about something personal.

I was shocked – not because of the message itself, but because the information came from a private conversation with another mutual friend.

It suddenly hit me: not everyone can keep a secret. And come to think of it, what the hell is even considered a secret these days?

There are many levels of secrets, ranging from national and corporate to personal, with varying degrees of severity within each category. I suppose a secret is essentially privileged information limited to a select group of people. The concept of secrecy isn’t new – I’m pretty sure even cavemen told their buddies not to blab about their latest loot.

But as communication becomes easier, the line between what’s secret and what’s not seems to be getting blurrier.

Take non-disclosure agreements, for instance. When you sign one, do they put you through a “trustworthiness” assessment? At best, you might be hooked up to a polygraph to make sure you’re not lying, but there’s nothing to measure how good you are at keeping your mouth shut.

The same goes for personal stuff. When someone shares something with you in confidence, they’re assuming you’re trustworthy. They might ask, “Can you keep this a secret?” But let’s be real – who’s going to say no and admit they can’t be trusted?

Now, thanks to my friend’s message, I’m in a bit of a dilemma.

Let me break it down for you:

1. A has a secret.
2. A tells this secret to B.
3. A also tells the same secret to C, separately.
4. Later, B contacts C to share A’s secret.
5. C promises B not to share the secret with anyone, including A (the original source of the secret).

So, should C tell A that B spilled the beans? And how should C respond to B without giving away that they already know? If C plays dumb, is that lying to B? After all, B trusted C enough to share the secret. But if C hints at knowing already, isn’t that breaking their promise to A?

And that’s just with 3 people. Imagine the complications in big organizations where trade secrets or state secrets are at stake. How on earth do you make sure everyone keeps their lips zipped?

We haven’t even touched on the definition of what constitutes a secret or exceptions like spouses, where information tends to flow freely.

All this got me thinking: what’s the litmus test for a person’s secret-keeping abilities? Having a good memory is a start – you’ve got to remember whose secret is whose and who you can share it with. Ironically, being extremely forgetful could work too.

Another factor to consider is how often someone’s under the influence of alcohol or drugs. The best memory in the world doesn’t mean anything if you’re loose-lipped after a few drinks.

And let’s not forget about the gossip factor. Does this person talk about others behind their backs? If they do, do they at least try to hide the identities of the people they’re dishing about?

Maybe we should also normalize the idea that it’s okay to say, “Thanks, but no thanks” when someone wants to share a secret. After all, ignorance can be bliss – especially when it comes to keeping your conscience clear.