A few years ago, after our farmhouse had been renovated post-fire, my wife and I would have Finance Evenings – one night a week when we would spend two hours or so reviewing finances. One night, we cut it short. At least, I did. I would catch up next time. Honestly, even in those times of economic madness, what drove me and what drives me more than balance sheets is the currency of a day.
We say we spend days. We say we spend and save and waste time. Something there is about the way time flows and the way the sun appears to cross the sky that makes us pine, perhaps, for a Way of Finances that feels comparably natural.
There is something to be said about the woman who dies with no memory. Either she’s impoverished or wealthy. Either she’s memory-poor or regretless-rich. Either she savored each moment that no memory was needed or she zapped past each moment with such busy-ness that no moment was heeded.
Why not hoard moments?
Why not invest in images by being present?
Why not cancel out regrets with contentment?
Why not invoice hope?
I want to leave an inheritance of how to relish relationships.
I want to die day-rich.
I hope my wife and daughters don’t mind.