I can’t remember where I heard the story, but that hardly matters. In truth, there are countless similar stories out there, and plenty of books that deep-dive into the subject. So why do I feel like I have something to say? Well, to quote a well-known blogger: “This is my blog.”
I have to admit that I, too, share this notion that the world order is on the brink of collapse. I share the Armageddon-adjacent idea that money — the story of money — is slowly turning into smoke. We all see the news. We all get caught off-guard by some video explaining BRICS and announcing, if you will, the imminent downfall of the American currency. So this isn’t some obscure topic, hidden behind the curtains.
It occurred to me just the other day that the place where I live — the land my grandfather left us — might actually be one of the best places to be if shit really hits the fan. After all, I can grow food here. Which leads me to the story of the night.
It goes something like this.
A rich man, who was successful in hiding his gold and money from looters in a war-ridden zone, eventually has to leave his home in search of food. His wife stays behind as he ventures out, bravely facing the unknown, the unsafe.
Hunger overrides his sense of caution. He knocks on doors, offering gold, even diamonds, to anyone willing to sell him food — some bread, anything. But no one is interested.
“You can’t eat those coins,” a voice says, as the last door shuts in his face.
The story matters because the man believed he was securing himself by hiding the gold. He thought it was his ticket out, his guarantee — no matter what happened out there. With that gold, he believed he could buy safety, certainty.
And yet, in reality, a bar of gold could not purchase a loaf of bread.
There’s a lesson here — one for all of us. Nearly everyone, without exception, thinks about money every single day. I know I do. I worry about it a lot, too. Today I went to visit my friend 
I’ll admit this is the story I’m telling myself these days, because I need to break the illusion that I’m taking steps backward. I’m moving forward — I think I know that much — I just don’t know the exact direction yet.
All in all, I know the relationship we have with money — all of us — is complex, to say the least. When we have very little and cling tightly to our convictions, we sometimes refocus on deeper values. But when we have a lot, when the story of money overwhelms us, intoxicates us, we fall prey to something resembling addiction.
The story of a man who makes ten times more today than he did in his youth, yet has never felt poorer, is not uncommon. Or rather — I’ve met a few of them.
Where am I going with this?
I don’t really know.
Maybe today, because I’m a bit frustrated and trying to rescue something positive from the day, I’m questioning myself more than usual. I may have little left in the coffers, but I suspect I’ll be okay.
I just don’t know how yet.
-MenO