66 · Why Rich, Though

Maybe, doing hard things could be more about exploration, not chasing pain. Maybe we could rewire the self-talk with that method. Was there ever a time in my life when I loved something so much, was so passionate, that I was okay with not making any money — where status became irrelevant entirely? What if I purified my intentions and didn't think about the accolades at all, using them only as direction for the vector of effort? The people who end up best at these competitions tend to show the purest intentions — they did what they loved, struggled, and loved staying in the hard. Pure intentions seem to be the most important thing.

What is the bottleneck to doing what you love? The fact that I have bills to pay and don't want to end up broke — that's the factor. If I just had enough disposable income set aside, I would throw myself head-first into astrophysics, theoretical physics and maths, along with coding and programming. My real passion is maths and physics with some chemistry, and a lot of astronomy. Most of it is STEM and natural sciences. My strongest emotional pulls were entomology and astronomy. Those were things I loved, like, authentically.

Why do you need to be rich? Why is it a goal in the first place? The philosophy I built over the past half-decade might just be a prison. Why can't I do the work that excites me — maybe short on finances, but fulfilled? Where did this suffering mentality come from? Why can't you enjoy your life? If there's one honest answer: because it's everywhere. The hustle is the water we swim in. It's in the conversations with peers, the advice you get, the stories of "success" told over and over, the way your own mind was trained to think about value and worth. The temptation isn't a failure — it's evidence that you're human, living in a culture that rewards the wrong things. The question is not whether you feel the temptation. The question is whether you recognise it and choose differently. Planning, scheduling, all this artificial optimisation — the work is an art. You do it deliberately and explore the terrain; that's the beauty. Honestly, I'd be okay studying entomology and biochemistry at Berry College in my twenties. It's my duty to remind myself that hustle porn, drive, motivation — that whole industry — is a distraction. Nobody studying entomological biochemistry is thinking "this will make me rich as fuck," and they're not worse off for it.

And my dad always tells me: just do what you want to do. Find what you love and do it — you don't need to give me money; I have money to buy you a house, cars, an inheritance. Embark on the journey; once you find what you love, do it fully. Would your parents rather have a son who is rich but empty, or a son doing work he loves, living a life of meaning, and still supporting them as much as he can? You know the answer. You just don't want to trust it. Would you want your own son to suffer through hell to buy you a private jet? Bro — I don't even want to fly private.

Yeah, it's just — I love my parents, but I can't ask them to help me financially anymore. It just can't happen. I don't care that they have the money. It's just — no.

To those who say money isn't everything: my counter is, why can't you give everything to your parents so that money doesn't even enter their consciousness as a variable? Why can't you call them often, be kind, have great relationships — plus more money? Why can't you work so hard and so efficiently that they never need to work again, only do what they love, travel the world, spend a marvellous time in the most beautiful places? Why can't you engulf the responsibility and manifest that reality? Both of these voices are mine. The tension between them is the engine.

Really think about this: if you pull off the impossible and lose your soul, you gained nothing but toys and garbage — a big number and social praise, which means nothing of value. Nurture your heart. Purify your intentions. Listen to what your heart actually wants.