On living a wealthy life vs living a slow life

And why choosing the best option isn't always the best decision

Photo by Kelli McClintock

I always struggled with making decisions.

Ask me to buy something and I’d spend hours researching just to make sure my choice is perfect. Just last week, I spent a whole night searching for the most comfortable pillow. And to this day, I still haven’t made a decision (who knew there were so many kinds of pillows).

So you can probably imagine how troubled I was when I had to make a choice that could define my entire future.

When I was figuring out what to do in my life, my reflections helped me realize that there are two life paths I want to pursue.

The first is a wealthy life, one where I have freedom to do what I want without having to worry about money. I could live as a nomad, have fun adventures, and travel to meet friends any time I want.

The second is a slow life, one where time moves in moments, not minutes. A life where I’m connected with my community and paying close attention to what truly matters to me.

If I had a choice, I wish I didn’t have to choose only one. But how can I live a rich life when I’m living in the present instead of planning for my future? How can I live a slow life when I’m grinding each day to reach my goals?

I knew this was a problem I couldn't solve on my own, so I decided to call for help.

I had a chat with

Lee A Smart

, a friend I met at Write of Passage. Apart from being a writer, Lee is a professional coach whose mission is to help people create a fired-up life. When he asked me how he could help, I told him about my dilemma.

After explaining the situation, Lee asked me why I wanted to live those lives. What would each path look like for me—where would I be, what would I be doing, how do I see myself spending my days? I never thought of it before, so I had to take some time to think before giving my answer.

I told him that I want a wealthy life because I don’t want to be limited by not having enough money. I don’t want to keep relying on discounts and scholarships just to gain access to opportunities I couldn’t afford, like a cohort-based course or lifetime membership at a thriving community. I don’t want to keep making empty promises to my friends, telling them "see you soon" even if I’m aware that soon won’t happen within a year. And I don’t want to be working for somebody else; I want to do work that I find most fulfilling, one where I can make the change only I can make.

At the same time, however, I want to live a slow life because I want to live more meaningfully.

Tommy Dixon

once taught me how living slowly means living deeply, and it’s something I still think about to this day:

Everyone talks about living longer (extending horizontal time) but few talk about living deeper (expanding vertical time). It’s tempting to treat time as an objective unit, like centimeters or kilograms, but experienced time is subjective. Five minutes can feel like an hour. Five hours can feel like five minutes. A decade can pass like two years, while two years may acquire the weight of a century.

A long life is a matter of deepening and densifying time. In other words, living slowly.

— Excerpt from “slowness as an ideal”

The kind of life I want isn’t one that passes by in a flash.

What I want is to spend my time with loved ones instead of spending it in front of spreadsheets. I want to work less so I can have more time to know myself deeper. I want to indulge in the present instead of always looking forward to a better future. And I want to be happy with what I have rather than always feeling like I don’t have enough, that I am not enough. 

Lee was listening closely. When he noticed that I already said everything I wanted to say, he looked right at me, his gaze passing through the screen and meeting me in the eye. Then, he said:

“It seems to me like you want the same thing. Deep inside, what you really want is to connect with others and become the best possible version of yourself.”

*

When I was in elementary school, I always looked forward to recess. Our school canteen was always crowded during break time. I would rush ahead when the bell rang to be first in line, only to find myself at the back every time. As I waited impatiently, I’d peep through the crowd to get a glimpse of the day’s menu.

Some days, the canteen served plates of spaghetti and hotdogs on a bun. Other days, it was a bowl of macaroni soup and a hamburger sandwich. Though the menu changed, my situation remained the same. I had enough money for a snack, but I could only choose one.

On spaghetti and hamburger day, I chose spaghetti because it would make me feel fuller. But deep down, I wished I could have both. Sitting at an empty seat, I’d sometimes glance back at the glass case, wishing I could have seconds.

One time, I thought I was about to get in a fight when a classmate walked up to me, asking why I was staring at him. He didn’t realize I was actually eyeing the hamburger placed beside his spaghetti, jealous that he gets to have both.

At a young age, I learned that I couldn't have everything I wanted. That's why whenever I buy something for myself, I think about what will give me the best bang for my buck—or I guess in the Philippines, the best piece for my peso.

In almost every decision, I always feel like I could only pick one, so I need to make sure my choice is perfect.

*

When Lee suggested that I wanted the same kind of life, I felt confused, but it became clear to me a second later. 

I want a wealthy life so I can afford resources to accelerate my growth and stay connected with friends, even if they're far away. I want a slow life so I can spend more time getting to know myself and have the freedom to serve my community in alignment with my values. These don’t have to be separate lives; they could be the same life if I choose them to be. 

That hour-long conversation with Lee helped me realize how I’ve been limiting myself by only considering the options in front of me. But now I know better. 

Choosing the best option isn’t always the best decision. Because the best decision is the one that allows me to have it all.

Thank you to

Becky Isjwara

for helping me make the right decisions for this piece.

💭 Quote I’m Thinking About

Author and speaker Ozan Varol on walking your path:

It’s one thing to daydream about the paths your life could take, to get lost in the ‘what ifs’ and ‘could bes.’ But it’s quite another to actually walk those paths. Dreams and reality may not align, and that’s part of the beauty of discovery.

❓ Questions I’m Asking

Where am I misaligned between what I say I want and what I am actually doing?

💙 Life Coach I’m Recommending

I decided to write this essay as a way of saying thank you to

Lee A Smart

. I’ve had a handful of 1:1 conversations this year, but only a few have made as big of a shift in my perspective as the one I had with Lee.

In the whole 1-hour session we had, he was paying close attention to what I was saying and how I was reacting. He helped me make a decision not by weighing out my options, but by letting me explore possibilities I haven’t thought about before. Being an aspiring coach, I found it incredible how quickly he thought of good questions to ask.

I’ll be hopping on a call with him again next month. If you’re stuck in life like I was and want to gain clarity on how you can live your best life, you can book a free discovery call with him through his website (www.leeasmart.com) or by clicking the button below.

---

Thank you for being here! If you’d like to reach out, my DMs are open anytime:

And if you enjoyed this essay, you might also like reading how a cup of coffee taught me to ask for what I don’t deserve:

The Coffee Challenge