What If

One of the games we used to play with my friends when I was a little girl was to ask each other what we’d do with a million dollars. At that time, that was about as much money as we could grasp. And so we would have arguments about whether we would buy a plane or a helicopter, build houses with swimming pools, libraries and a play room, and what percentage we’d give to charity.

But after a while the “what if” game grew old – because we realized that it was never going to happen and that it was a futile exercise. Interestingly, none of my friends and I ever said we’d eventually make that million dollars on our own. Perhaps we were not very entrepreneurial. Or perhaps deep down we realized that we were living fairly comfortable lives and anything more would just be a luxury.

When I was growing up and chose gifts to give to my parents, I always had such a hard time. Whenever I would ask my mom what she wanted for her birthday or Mother’s Day, she’d always tell me to just be a good girl. Or if I asked my dad what he wanted, he’d always just say nothing really. I thought it was because he thought that there was nothing I could buy for him that he couldn’t afford to buy for himself.

Now that I’m a grown up and have some disposable income of my own, I realized that I don’t really want much at all. I am quite happy with what I can afford. And what I cannot afford, I can definitely live without. Earlier this year, I tried to pull a Marie Kondo and KonMari my way out of my mess. As I disposed of bags and bags of my clothes and stuff, I realized I didn’t really need much to live a meaningful life. In fact, I felt a sense of calm and lightness whenever I entered my room and did not find any clutter. Not owning much is actually liberating.

As an adult, what I value more are restful sleep, solid relationships, meaningful conversations, purposeful work, good health, and deep spirituality. None of them cost much but need my time, presence, mindfulness, and commitment. The world would have me believe that if I were richer, I would be happier. But it’s clear to me now that more money will not teach me to be more loving, nor will it give me better health or deeper faith.

So the “what if” game becomes more existential. What if I gave of myself more? What if I lived on less?  What if I had to give this or that up? What if this was the last time I saw this person? If I were to die tomorrow, would I be happy with my life? Faced with these questions, I find the million dollars suddenly inconsequential.