Millionaire used to mean something. Now it’s a Whole Foods sighting. One in six households, apparently. Cool. Tell that to the people making $30,000 and doing math at the gas pump.
Part of this is just language catching up. Inflate the world long enough and words get soft. “Millionaire” starts to sound like “has a retirement account and a bad back.” A label that used to promise safety now mostly promises anxiety with better shoes.
And the yoga question is hiding in there, like it always is. What are we actually aiming for when we chase security? Because the mind is a clever accountant. It will always find a new threshold. Today it’s a million. Tomorrow it’s ten. Then it’s “I can’t relax because AI might take my job.”
I think about my teacher Rolf. He was a semi-circle guy. A beach-teaching, rice-for-pay, stomach-yoga kind of person. He didn’t look like the life plan people brag about online. And yet he practiced. He taught. He eventually made a family anyway. His guru’s son is a doctor now. Life keeps unfolding, even without the right numbers.
So yes, get paid. Be practical. But don’t build your whole spine out of a word that keeps losing value. Practice for the thing that doesn’t inflate: steadiness. Clarity. The ability to take your foot off the accelerator inside, even if the world won’t let you do it outside.