A few months ago I had a conversation with two older coworkers about what we would do if we won the lottery. They started the conversation, not I. Everyone was talking about the lottery at the time. The jackpot had gotten huge, and the numbers were going to be drawn in a few days.
My coworkers mentioned the typical dreams: sail to some island, build some big house, move someplace where the sun always shines and the water tastes like rose nectar. They seemed pretty well convinced that if you won the lottery you would have it made.
I presented the heretical idea that maybe having a huge lump of cash wouldn’t be that great. Maybe, I suggested, what makes life good is having something meaningful with which to occupy yourself. Maybe people need to produce something with their lives in order to feel fulfilled. Maybe, if you feel lost when you have little money, you would feel just as lost with lots of it.
They wouldn’t have it. They laughed and implied that I must be over-complicated: “Well I wouldn’t have any problem just sitting in Fiji for the rest of my life!”
Lots of people say things like that. I think they’re mistaken. People want to believe they would be content living off a massive nest egg with a Mai Tai in hand and no worries in their heads. But that kind of contentment can’t last very long. Passive pleasure is not in itself a reason to live. Any thoughtful person who has spent a continuous stretch of time pursuing it can attest to that fact.
I once took a chunk of savings and spent over four months traveling with no obligations. I remember many long days. Sixteen hours is a lot of time to spend with nothing productive to do. After only a few weeks, the pleasure and excitement had become routine.
My coworkers turned the discussion to less selfish aspects of lottery winnings. They thought this might be more rhetorically persuasive. “Think of all the people you could help,” one of them said.
It’s true, to a small extent. If I had ten million dollars sitting around, I could give it to the hospital and pay for every cancer patient’s chemo. But the thing is, you can help people with just ten thousand dollars. Or even one hundred. Or even with nothing more than your time. Most of us don’t do so—at least not very often. It’s just not a strong desire.
So unless you’re someone who gives every last spare cent to charities and causes—and loves doing it—you probably wouldn’t be made that happy by giving away millions. And even if giving away millions was a happy experience, how long could that single experience sustain you? Five years later, would you be looking out the window with a cup of coffee in hand thinking, Boy, I sure do feel good about giving that money to those needy strangers half a decade ago? Would you ruminate on that one thought for six hours straight and go to bed that night feeling satisfied with yourself?
Again, count me doubtful. Giving money to the needy may be an admirable thing to do, but as an experience it’s boring. There’s no creativity in it.
This discussion with my coworkers didn’t bring up a single money-enabled thing that sounded to me like it could make me happy long-term. Maybe for a month, or two, or even a year—but not for life.
I realized how rarely money is a solution to anything. Some of our problems can indeed be solved with cash. You need a knee replacement. Your basement flooded. Your car won’t start. But these aren’t the kinds of problems people are thinking about when they dream of winning the lottery.
The problems people really hope money can solve are a lot more serious. Things like aimlessness. Loneliness. Confusion. Money doesn’t help with these things.
In fact, a big sum of money that you simply won might actually be detrimental to solving these problems. The daily necessity of making a living gives shape to our lives. If approached mindfully, it may be in that process that we have the best hope of finding our true direction. And the best hope of connecting with others. And maybe also the best hope of seeing clearly.
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