Happiness Has Nothing to Do With Gold
By James Bridges
I had a friend who I thought had it all. I’m talking about money, cars, women who seemed like characters from a “swaggalicious” movie, and more women. “Livin’” He could fly a girl to Paris for dinner just to flex, and he did. He had a garage full of hot rods, bank accounts that bulged by simply looking at them, and a book full of “friends” who loved the perks.
He was fucking miserable…
He’d call me up, drunk or lonely, bitching about how unhappy he was. How nothing felt good. How the hole never got filled. He didn’t get it. Neither did I.
Yesterday I noticed something that I didn’t plan for but turned out to be nearly perfect. I gave my time and attention equally to the people I love most. No favorites, without calculation. It wasn’t about fairness, it was about authentic intention.
Even with the small mishaps of the day, I felt peace because my presence was shared fully. Each family member got a piece of me, and I didn’t even realize it until I looked back last night.The goodness of the day came not from control or scheduling, but from being genuine in the moment. Unconditional consideration became the source of the calm.
Over time, I’ve discovered that money buys distractions. It buys noise. It buys more shit you don’t need, and more people who don’t give a damn about you. They only see the money for themselves…
A disease of sorts.
What I learned is that happiness comes when you make other people happy. When your kid laughs. When your family’s taken care of. When you leave somebody better than you found them. That’s it. The golden rule in all of its complex simplicity.
I can’t help but smile when I think about my loved ones smiling. I can’t help but be concerned when I think about them not…
I have a never ending pool of positive energy that fuels my happiness. My withdrawal comes when I contribute to my loved ones happiness. My friend from the past still has to go to the bank. And even then sometimes the largest bank account is simply full of shit.
Not cars. Not pussy. Not five-star meals in Mexico City. None of that. It’s love.
My old friend never figured it out. Most people won’t, because they’re still chasing the lie that stacking paper and buying toys fills the void. It doesn’t. Happiness has nothing to do with gold. It has everything to do with what the hell you carry in your soul.
