Hey there,

It was March 2020, and I was about to do something incredibly stupid with my money.

The market had just dropped 30%. My portfolio, built over years of steady contributions, was suddenly worth much less. That morning I logged into my brokerage account three times (I don’t use the app).

Each time, my mouse hovered over the “sell” button.

I had all the justifications ready: “This is different.” “I’ll buy back in when things stabilize.” “I’m just being smart.”

Then I remembered the document.

Years earlier, during a calm weekend when the market felt boring and predictable, I had written myself a letter. Not a fancy financial plan — just a page of honest answers to questions about how I should invest.

The first line read: “If you’re reading this during a crisis and thinking about selling, don’t. Here’s why you started investing in the first place…”

I closed the page. I didn’t sell. And like everyone who stayed invested through 2020, my portfolio eventually recovered and then some.

That document?

Investment gurus call it an Investment Policy Statement. I think of it as a letter from my calm self to my panicked self.

Here’s the thing about investing: the math is actually pretty simple. Save consistently. Keep costs low. Diversify broadly. Don’t sell when things get scary. Buy boring index funds. Rebalance occasionally. Wait decades.

If investing was only about math, everyone would be rich.

But investing isn’t about math. It’s about behavior. And behavior gets weird when money and emotions collide.

When gold hits $3,600 an ounce for the first time ever, you wonder if you should buy some.

When your neighbor’s crypto portfolio doubles in three months, your boring index funds suddenly feel… boring.

When the market drops 8% in a week, every cell in your body screams, “Do something.”

These moments — the fear moments and the FOMO moments — are when most people wreck their financial futures. Not because they’re dumb, but because they’re human.

An Investment Policy Statement moves decisions from emotional moments to calm ones.

Think of it like this: if you have ever walked into Costco hungry without a list, you know how that ends.

Suddenly you are $60 deep in cheeses, grabbing the 18-month-old parmesan, some good prosciutto, and a box of those TruFruit chocolate-covered strawberries.

All great things, but not what you actually went there for.

Bring a list, though, and you stay focused. You spend on what matters, not impulse.

Your IPS is the list.

Mine is embarrassingly simple. Just a one-page Google Doc with seven sections:

• Why I’m investing: To build enough wealth for real autonomy — the freedom to say no to projects I don’t want, yes to opportunities that matter, and design my days around what fulfills me.
• What I own: 90% boring index funds (U.S. stocks, international stocks, bonds). 10% “choose your own adventure.”
• When I add money: Automatically on the first of every month. No “waiting for the right time.”
• My rebalancing rule: M1 Finance and Carry.com auto-rebalance with contributions. My only manual rule: if my 10% alternatives bucket grows to 20%, I sell half and move it back.
• What I ignore: Daily market news, predictions, tips, “the next big thing.” If I’m tempted to act, I wait 90 days.
• What could make me change: Major life events only, not market moves.
• My emotional limit: I chose 90% stocks because my horizon is decades. I’m committing to hold through a multi-year bear market, even if it hurts.

That’s it. Nothing fancy. But here’s what it has done for me:

I don’t check my portfolio daily.

I don’t feel compelled to “do something” during swings.

Or, as John Bogle said, “Don’t do something, just stand there.”

I don’t wonder if I’m investing the right way.

I decided once, wrote it down, and now I follow my own instructions.

Look, maybe you’re thinking: “I don’t need to write this down. I know what to do.” I thought that too. But knowing and doing are different things.

Writing it down changes something. It creates a contract with yourself. It turns a vague intention into a specific commitment.

If you do nothing else this weekend, do this: Open a document. Write one sentence about why you’re investing. Write your target asset allocation is. Write one rule for when you’ll rebalance. Write what you’ll ignore. Save it somewhere you’ll see it during the next market freak-out.

That’s it.

Because the next time the market drops 20%, or your coworker won’t stop bragging about their latest win, or you read a headline about an imminent crash, you’ll have something more powerful than willpower.

You’ll have instructions from the smartest investor you know: the calm, clear-headed version of yourself.

Have a great weekend,

​
R.J. Weiss
​The Ways to Wealth​