Last month I saved another $10,000. My first thought was, "That's fine."
Then, the real question hit: What does this actually change?
Not much.
It doesn't meaningfully move the needle on the one thing I want: a decent home for my future family. Not in this city, and not even if I doubled my wealth. It doesn't alter my daily joy. I’d hit financial satiation — a concept I knew from Daniel Kahneman's research but only now understood in my bones. High income improves life evaluation, but not daily emotional well-being. My hedonic treadmill had stopped.
Instead of being depressing, it was liberating. If it doesn't matter, why stress? The question needed to shift from 'How much money do I have?' to 'What life do I need money for?'
This financial clarity bled into a material one. As a long-time minimalist, I'd still feared losing my savings and my gear. Giving things away relieved me.
I don't need much. A passport, a place to live, a device to do work, and freedom of movement.
If I lost $10,000, nothing changes.
If I lost everything, it would be frustrating, but I'd climb back.
My safety net isn't a number in a bank; it's my ability to create value.
After a large investment, I lived paycheck to paycheck for six months. It was stressful, but I didn't starve and didn't cancel plans with friends. I was fine.
The lesson stuck: I want that same focus and intentionality, but with the safety net of savings eliminating the stress.
If I were robbed, I could still work.
Building skills, and providing this ability to others is more important than savings.
Even stripped bare, I have a family support system — a privilege I don't take for granted. The most important things, like time with friends, are nearly free.
And if I had enough money not to bother working again, I would still do it.
Though the nature of work would change, yes.
It may not be a job in traditional sense.
But it will still be work.
The Specifics of My 'Enough'
So, if more savings don't matter, what does? I shifted the question from 'How much money do I have?' to 'What life do I need money for?'
I defined the meaningful costs for the life I want — not luxuries, but foundations for a family:
* Modest Flat In A World-Class City — a home, not a penthouse
* Reliable Car (a Toyota Corolla or a base-model BMW, a small flex) — for the practical necessity of family life, not status
* Extended Trip Around The World
* Gym Membership
* Renewing Essential Tech (laptop, phone, camera).
* Food & Groceries.
The sum is a number so large it feels abstract. But its power isn't in the total; it's in the clarity. These are specific, meaningful goals. The cost is a defined target, not a source of anxiety.
The list can feel crushing. So the immediate question becomes: what's the MVP for the next year? What experience can you have now? New experiences and time with friends & family beat everything on that list above.
That initial feeling of liberation was real. Defining 'enough' by what truly matters is the ultimate clarity.
The money is just a tool. The list is just a sketch. The real project is building a life so engaging that the pursuit of more money becomes optional, not central.
This was my calculation. Not of wealth, but of purpose. I invite you to do yours.
Does an extra grand in the bank truly bring you joy, or is it just a number?
If not, what should you do instead?
What do you want to acquire and experience? Why?
What kind of life do you need money for?
What's on your list?