All I want out of life.

Making money has never been my thing. But I do understand that it’s the prime motivator with many, many people. That it’s a seductive thing. Gives one a sense of security. And the ability to do almost anything. To travel. To own multiple homes. And to indulge in all sorts of luxuries. Thing is, I wouldn’t know what to do with a monetary fortune. Maybe I’d give it away. And disappear. Into a wilderness.  With my true love.  Really, that’s all I need. In that sense, I’m easily satisfied. Don’t need to live in a mansion. Or to have servants. I’d make a lousy king. Because I don’t want political power.  Instead, give me a cocoon. Away from the masses. I don’t want public adulation either. Or fame. I might cultivate a handful of likeable people. Maybe philosophers and poets. For the sake of good conversation.  And I would continue to write. About life. And love. That’s enough to make me happy. Come to think of it. That’s all I want out of life. Happiness. –Jim Broede