My Daughter is about a year old as I write this. She’s curious about everything and learns so fast.

But sometimes I think about all the stuff she can’t comprehend.

She has no idea why her dad goes to work every morning.

The concept of bills, budgets, careers, promotions, and saving for retirement are completely foreign to her.

Imagine trying to explain the Federal Reserve, credit derivatives, of NAFTA to her. Impossible.

But her world isn’t dark. She does not wander around in confusion.

Ever at a year old, she’s written her own internal narrative of how everything works. Blankets keep you warm, mom snuggles keep you safe, and dates taste good.

Everything she comes across fits into one of the a few dozen mental models she’s learned. When I go to work she doesn’t stop in confusion, wondering what salary and bills are. She has a crystal clear explanation of the situation: Dad isn’t playing with me, and I wanted him to play with me, so I’m sad.

Even though she knows little, she doesn’t realize it, because she tells herself a coherent story about what’s going on based on the little she does know.

All of us, no matter our age, do the same thing.

Just like my daughter, I don’t know what I don’t know. So I am just as susceptible to explaining the world through the limited set of mental models I have at my disposal.

Like her, I look for the most understandable causes in everything I come across. And like her, I’m wrong about a lot of them, because I know a lot less about how the world works than I think I do.

Let me tell you about a problem. It might make you feel better about what you do with your money, and less judgmental about what other people do with theirs.

People do some crazy things with money. But no one is crazy.

Here’s the thing: People from different generations, raised by different parents who earned different incomes and held different values, in different parts of the world, born into different economies, experiencing different job markets with different incentives and different degrees of luck, learn very different lessons.

Everyone has their own unique experience with how the world works. And what you’ve experienced is more compelling than what you learn second-hand. So all of us—you, me, everyone—go through life anchored to a set of views about how money works that vary wildly from person to person. What seems crazy to you might make sense to me.

The most powerful common denominator of happiness was simple. Campbell summed it up:

Having a strong sense of controlling one’s life is a more dependable predictor of positive feelings of wellbeing than any of the objective conditions of life we have considered.

More than your salary. More than the size of your house. More than the prestige of your job. Control over doing what you want, when you want to, with the people you want to, is the broadest lifestyle variable that makes people happy.

Money’s greatest intrinsic value—and this can’t be overstated—is its ability to give you control over your time. To obtain, bit by bit, a level of independence and autonomy that comes from unspent assets that give you greater control over what you can do and when you can do it.

The best part of being a valet is getting to drive some of the coolest cars to ever touch pavement. Guests came in driving Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces—the whole aristocratic fleet.

It was my dream to have one of these cars of my own, because (I thought) they sent such a strong signal to others that you made it. You’re smart. You’re rich. You have taste. You’re important. Look at me.

The irony is that I rarely if ever looked at them, the drivers.

When you see someone driving a nice car, you rarely think, "Wow, the guy driving that car is cool." Instead, you think, "Wow, if I had that car people would think I’m cool." Subconscious or not, this is how people think.

There is a paradox here: people tend to want wealth to signal to others that they should be liked and admired. But in reality those other people often bypass admiring you, not because they don’t think wealth is admirable, but because they use your wealth as a benchmark for their own desire to be liked and admired.

The letter I wrote after my son was born said, "You might think you want an expensive car, a fancy watch, and a huge house. But I’m telling you, you don’t. What you want is respect and admiration from other people, and you think having expensive stuff will bring it. It almost never does—especially from the people you want to respect and admire you."

If I had to summarize money success in a single word it would be "survival."

40% of companies successful enough to become publicly traded lost effectively all of their value over time. The Forbes 400 list of richest Americans has, on average, roughly 20% turnover per decade for causes that don’t have to do with death or transferring money to another family member.

Capitalism is hard. But part of the reason this happens is because getting money and keeping money are two different skills.

Getting money requires taking risks, being optimistic, and putting yourself out there.

But keeping money requires the opposite of taking risk. It requires humility, and fear that what you’ve made can be taken away from you just as fast. It requires frugality and an acceptance that at least some of what you’ve made is attributable to luck, so past success can’t be relied upon to repeat indefinitely.

Manage your money in a way that helps you sleep at night. That’s different from saying you should aim to earn the highest returns or save a specific percentage of your income. Some people won’t sleep well unless they’re earning the highest returns; others will only get a good rest if they’re conservatively invested. To each their own. But the foundation of, "does this help me sleep at night?" is the best universal guidepost for all financial decisions.