The Real Riches in Life
When you look back upon your life…what has really mattered? What brought you REAL satisfaction?
Looking back…powerful, long-forgotten memories burst upon the mindscreen…
Sunrays splash on the faded dash, cruising along the river in a convoy of friends, seeking lush camp spots for the night.
The electric wet eyes of a deer in an ancient meadow under red sandglass sunset, rolling slow and solo on my first motorcycle, cold wind on my chest.
Walking in the autumn woods with a real true love, red leaves of midwest autumn crunching under our feet, laying on a plush blanket, laughing under tree canopy and the warmth of her soft shoulder.
The feeling of sliding on a cozy old fuzzy-hooded sweatshirt with little burn holes from a hundred campfires.
Meditating on moonlit fine-white sand, 19 years old, our first road trip. Sleeping in the car until a sweet lady let us camp it her backyard. Holding surfboards on the roof of the car against the wind, paddling out into vicious waves and wiping out repeatedly til the board bashed my ear and left it dangling. Tying it on with a shoelace and battling back out into the chop.
The way our first cat Chelsea would lap water from my wet hair after a night bath, 5 years old, how it tickled and she knew it and I loved her and I told her.
Racquetball duels with my Dad, sweaty and breathing hard. The score is tied at game-point but it’s win by two and he looks me square in the eye before the serve in mirrored competitive glimmer, we both want it and we both know it and he turns and serves hard.
The way that ear still hangs a little low.
Driving in the cool night air in some very specific nostalgia, when on the radio comes your absolute jam, the one that somehow matches this precise feeling and suddenly you’re singing all the words out loud with the windows down, half-singing half-laughing in astonishment at the magic of the invisible hand.
Tucking my 93-year-old Gramdma into pastel sheets after sitting by her bed hearing stories of her life. Knowing her time was coming and holding her without speaking and her tears on my shirt.
Learning to accept everything and let it all be okay.
Sitting high on a cliff on a limb with my brother holding onto a thin pipe trapeze at the end of a 30 foot rope staring down a straight drop between Colorado pines to fling out 30 feet over the water and flyyy.
His breathing calm, waiting for the perfect clarity, aiming straight between the pines and dropping in.
Swooping down and whipping up to fly and splash and walk back up the shore saying - “it was easy after all.”
What are the real riches in life? Can they be bought? Aren’t they connections? Aren’t they experiences?
Aren’t wealthy-people’s blankets just as cozy? Don’t rich people watch the same movies and feel the same warmth from the same sun?
Is all this competitive frenzy blinding us from seeing that we already have all there really ever is to have: breathing, clean water, sunwarmth, green forests, intelligence, perspective, companionship.
What can you possibly purchase that’s better than simple, wide-open freedom?
Finally, I see… Real magic moments aren’t lived on screens. The Real Riches can’t be bought or sold.
You’re hurtling through space on a wet lava granule by a tiny star in the huge arm of a colossal galaxy, scattered adrift in a rainbow of galaxies sparkling.
There is already so much to enjoy :)
Here is a great video about the real riches in life: