Get Rich and Die Giving
The obligation to use wealth to feed the "good wolf"
Hi,
To all who celebrate Thanksgiving or simply practice acts of gratitude this time of year, I wish you much love and much opportunity to help others. It’s a gift to help. And to you who is reading: thank you. Your attention is a gift to me.
Let’s dig in.
In this edition:
Should we feel obligated to share our wealth?
The incredible benefits of giving
Feeding your inner “steward” vs. your inner “owner”
Once there was a boy who, by my estimation at least, could make Elon Musk look poor. He owned nothing, but he gave everything.
Duane lived in a small Christian community in southwest Pennsylvania. At three months old, he was diagnosed with Lennox-Gastaut syndrome, a rare and devastating form of epilepsy. Doctors didn’t expect him to live beyond a year. He lived to 31. And in that time, he made an impact no one — not his doctors, not his family — could have imagined.
Throughout his short life, Duane was confined to a wheelchair. He couldn’t walk, talk or feed himself. His care was demanding, and as he grew, his family struggled to do it on their own. Then their pastor came up with an idea: the young men of the community could take shifts caring for Duane. Dress him. Feed him. Move him. Sit with him.
It would be a way to fulfill their obligation to serve, but more than that, a way for these young men to learn more about life. Because none of the usual hierarchy mattered — being the funniest, fastest, strongest, smartest. Spending time with Duane was like being taught by a quiet kung fu master. The lessons weren’t obvious, but they were profound.
When Duane died, the family received a flood of letters. Hundreds came to his funeral. Men who had cared for him wrote about what he had taught them: what strength really means, how to endure what’s difficult, how to be responsible, how to be patient, how to sit in silence, how to give and receive grace. Lessons that would compound through their marriages, friendships, workplaces and communities.
As Duane’s sister wrote:
“To crack a cold heart, to train it in love, is the most liberating service any person can do for another.”
He was like a heat lamp in the tundra, warming everyone who came near. He was a person who, by society’s standards, had “nothing to give,” yet had given more than most ever will.
Isn’t that worth more than a contract for $1 trillion?
This isn’t a criticism of Musk personally. He is just the clearest symbol of a cultural worldview that measures worth by accumulation. But Duane’s story suggests something different: the value of anything — money, talent, time, simple presence — is in how it’s used.
So, I have to wonder: if that’s what he could do, shouldn’t those of us privileged with so much more feel obligated to give more?
Another “richest person in the world,” Andrew Carnegie, thought so.
In his book, The Gospel of Wealth, the steel magnate argued that the rich had a responsibility to use their wealth not just for self-aggrandizement but also for the common good. They are trustees for the poor, “doing for them better than they would or could do for themselves.”
Think of how this sounds today: Carnegie, one of the wealthiest humans in history, wrote:
“The man who dies thus rich dies disgraced.”
But what Carnegie seemed to slightly overlook is that you don’t need to be rich to serve the common good — as proven by the life of Duane, someone who couldn’t survive without the help of others.
Scientists tell us all matter sends out gravitational waves, ripples in the fabric of the universe. Even if they’re too small to detect, everything creates them: stars, stones, you, me.
So we all have the power to affect the world around us. It’s just how you use what you have that determines the direction and strength of your wave.
You can collapse inward like a black hole, devouring everything. Or you can radiate outward like a star, giving light.
I’m not judging anyone’s personal choices. But the evidence strongly points in the same direction: generosity isn’t only good, it’s good for us. Like exercise, gratitude and giving are behaviors that reliably produce well-being.
And even if it weren’t true, it might still be better to believe it is.
The flow of wealth
Art is one of the most personal things one can do. Yet, for many artists, once you make it, it’s no longer yours.
The musician Nick Cave wrote, “I don’t feel I personally have any real claim over my songs. I feel they belong equally to those who love them. These songs have urgent work to do. I send them out into the world… to travel where they are needed.”
Phil Collins echoed the same sentiment: “Beyond a certain point, the music isn’t mine anymore. It’s yours.”
Many artists hold an almost spiritual conviction about their work. They feel they are drawing from somewhere else, that they are instruments rather than owners. Genius is something borrowed, and the job is simply to let the flow continue through them.
As the prize-winning author Julian Barnes put it:
“Art belongs to those who create it and those who savour it… Art does not exist for art’s sake: it exists for people’s sake.”
If that’s true of art, why wouldn’t it be true of money or any of the other things we use to shape a life?
What if we thought less of ourselves as “owners” of the things we have and more as “stewards”? Rather than insisting everything is mine and meant to serve me, what if instead we saw ourselves as caretakers of whatever gifts we’ve been given, entrusted to put them to good use?
That may sound like a lofty or even uncomfortable question, especially when applied to money. But for long-term well-being, for what creates enduring satisfaction, the scales increasingly tip toward thinking like a steward, not an owner.
Studies show that people’s first impulse is often to cooperate rather than compete. And giving as part of your lifestyle has long-term effects on life satisfaction.
One study found that prosocial behavior (acts of kindness toward others) led to greater increases in “psychological flourishing” than self-focused behavior. Those who engaged in helping others experienced more positive emotions and fewer negative ones, while those who treated themselves showed little change.
Researchers have repeatedly found that spending money on others makes us happier than spending it on ourselves, and that putting money toward shared experiences consistently boosts well-being.
But the benefits of giving aren’t limited to money: being generous with your knowledge, energy, affection or time provides similar gains. Volunteering, for example, is linked to higher happiness across cultures.
The oft-cited Harvard happiness study shows that relationships, not income, are the most consequential factor in long-term life satisfaction. And when we use our money in ways that strengthen relationships, happiness increases.
Consider a recent survey found that most Americans derive their sense of “feeling wealthy” not from the size of their bank account but from emotional well-being and the quality of their relationships.
Meanwhile, those who tie their self-worth to money tend to have lower self-esteem and reduced life satisfaction. Pursuing money purely to feed your own desires leads inward: toward comparison, craving, self-centeredness and a scarcity mindset. It’s why I think many people we call greedy or selfish aren’t actually greedy; they’re just lonely.
So if prosocial behavior — giving — strengthens relationships, and relationships are the strongest contributor to happiness, isn’t that a fairly loud sign pointing to how we’re meant to use what we have?
A pattern appears: gifts flow to us like a river — by birth, hard work or luck — and most of the joy we get from them comes when we pass them along.
Be the river, not the dam.
A third-century saint, Basil the Great, said it much better:
Wells that are drawn from flow the better; left unused, they go foul… Money kept standing idle is worthless, but moving and changing hands it benefits the community and brings increase.
The battle of two wolves
There’s a legend often attributed to the Cherokee or to other indigenous peoples. In one version, a grandfather teaches his grandson about life.
“A fight is going on inside me,” the grandfather tells the boy. “It is a terrible fight between two wolves. One is evil — he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.”
The other is good — he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. The same fight is going on inside you — and inside every other person, too.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked, “Which wolf will win?”
His grandfather simply replied, “The one you feed.”
I think there’s a battle within us between our owner instincts and our steward instincts. Shifting from one to the other is easier said than done.
While we may be natural cooperators, that impulse doesn’t always carry into our everyday, modern lives.
I’ll confess: I’m the kind of person who says no to rounding up a purchase at the grocery store. (In my defense, it’s usually because I’m just trying to get the hell out of a busy store and suddenly I’m confronted with a moral dilemma when all I wanted was some milk.)
But stewardship — living a little more generously — is a trait that can be developed. The antidote to being overly attached to the self is to practice generosity. Give, and then give a little more.
Feed the good wolf.
A simple way to begin is by changing how we think about what we receive. Instead of seeing everything as “for me,” we can adopt the mindset that what comes to us is meant to move through us as well.
The celebrated Rabbi Jonathan Sacks said something that perfectly captures the shift:
“We are not owners of our blessings; we are guardians of them for the sake of others.”
After all, if you won’t possess something forever (and I don’t think anyone reading this is destined for immortality), is it ever wholly yours?
Sure, I realize this can sound borderline spiritual. It may not land for everyone. But anyone who has spent time around money, or around people navigating financial decisions, has seen the truth of it play out over and over.
None other than the finance celebrity Dave Ramsey said:
“If the only thing people remember about you is what you owned, you lived too small.”
No matter what you do for a living or how much you have, you can steward your own happiness by sharing what you can.
I heard someone say once that “abundance isn’t the quantity of your possessions, it’s the quality of your heart. It’s the quality of your existence.”
We are all wealthier than we think — rich, even. How rich you are isn’t measured by what you have but by what you give.
Yes, you can do a lot with a trillion dollars. But you can also change a life by giving everything you have, even when it’s nothing tangible.
That might be the best kind of gift.
Gratitude. Love. Knowledge. Patience. Perseverance.
All the important matters are invisible.
And some people give it all in ways we can’t imagine.
Notes to my future self:
The value of anything — money, talent, time, or simple presence — is in how it’s used. Be the river, not the dam.
Generosity isn’t just good — it’s good for us.
I am not the owner of my blessings; I’m their steward.
Until next time,
J.S.
Nice post. Always enjoy your writing
"Be the river, not the dam". What a beautiful concept. We should allow our love and our lives to flow outward, rather than held back and hoarded.