Giving Up on Getting Rich
I don't need the Big Bag, but I still want a Big Life
When you were a kid, did you imagine yourself as a rich adult? Did you see yourself living in a house with many bedrooms? Travelling first class, staying at the best hotels, dining at the finest restaurants? Opening up your wardrobe to racks of immaculately organised designer clothes? Perhaps your imagination stretched further than that – a yacht, a jewellery box glittering with diamonds, a fleet of rare-breed puppies?
And how did you think you’d acquire your millions – hard work? Strategic marriage? Or simply via some divine intervention you couldn’t yet name, but felt certain was coming?
Most people, I think, privately believe they will end up rich. For a long time, I was the same. We live in a wealth-worshipping culture, where the most visible icons are multimillionaire celebrities and billionaire entrepreneurs, and social media has normalised something that was once taboo: the deliberate flaunting of wealth. Even “quiet luxury” is just an elaborate ruse for signalling a hefty bank balance – is a Margaux bag really lowkey if you’re tagging The Row on Instagram?
Then there’s the way we talk about money – or rather, the way we’re not supposed to. A pervasive, warped application of the ancient spiritual practice of manifestation (I wrote about this years ago) has made it almost controversial to vocalise any doubt about your own ability to accrue wealth. You simply have to believe you're going to be rich – maybe paste some dollar signs on a vision board every January – and surely you will be. Dare to think otherwise, and aren't you just blocking your blessings?