Dying rich


I recently read a book about the life of Alexander McQueen. When the writer talks about the fashion designers death (he comitted suicide at 40), he says: “he died a rich man” and starts summing up all the properties and millions in the bank McQueen left behind. That sentence stopped me in my tracks. What the hell is the point dying a rich man? It's not like you take any of it to the grave with you. Of course you can leave money and houses behind for your loved ones, and/or donate a big chunk to charity (like McQueen did). But if you are working your ass off your entire life, to then die unhappy but wealthy in dollar signs, what is the point?


It made me think of my own life, which is pretty much the opposite of McQueens. I’ve never had a bunch of money, but always more than enough to live the life I choose. Travelling on a budget is pretty much what I’ve been doing for the past ten years. I work to fund my nomadic life, not to save up for a house to buy (yet). I enjoy this life deeply, yet I notice I often don’t do things because they cost money. Budget living, right?


Reading that sentence made me change my perception. Life is right here, right now. Money comes and goes, so why hold myself back from experiences just because they aren’t free? This fueled a spark in me that has me saying YES to more and more things coming my way. Tango classes? Sign me up! A celebration? I’ll get the bubbles! Last minute festival? Why not?!


I definitely won’t die a rich woman. But if I die a happy one, I’m sure I’ll still find ways to send gifts from the afterlife.

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