“The planet does not need more successful people, but it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind.” - David Orr

No matter where we are on the wealth continuum, money plays a huge role in our lives – as a means to an end or as an end in itself. We know that money doesn’t buy happiness – or do we? We live in a culture dominated by making and spending money, and it is difficult to escape the feeling that we always need more – that buying that dress or taking that trip is what we need to feel good. And often it does – for a while. But soon the pursuit of more distracts us from feeling satisfied with what we already have.

When I attended my first MEA informational Zoom, Kari Henley (now Kari Cardinale) introduced us to the “polishing the pearls of wisdom” gesture, and tongue-in-cheek called it “a little cultish.” Sometimes that notion comes back to me, especially when I try to explain MEA to others. How do you explain a program that has such a loyal following of people who say “that was the workshop I didn’t know I needed” or “I feel such a sense of deep belonging with the community”?

Meet Unicorn, a Diné Churro (four-horned sheep) traditionally cared for by native peoples in New Mexico.

Ever since I wrote this post last month, “Older Single Women of the World, Unite,” (meawisdom.com/wisdom-well/post/older-single-women-of-the-world-unite) I’ve been in a series of separate email conversations with more than a dozen single female MEA alums who are curious about their definition of family as they age.

Why do we vastly underestimate how much life we still have ahead of us? Part of it is due to our misreading of the longevity data. If we hear that American men have an average lifespan of 76 years old, we think that means we’ll die in less than a dozen years if we’re 65 today. And, yet, a man who’s reached 65 had added nearly 8 years to his life expectancy compared to when he was a newborn (so chances are he’ll live to 84) just because he’s averted many of the life risks of youth and early adulthood.

One of our MEA alums and my neighbor in Galisteo, NM, Andrew, introduced me to the word “barmecidal,” which means giving only the illusion of plenty, but something or someone that is ultimately disappointing. The etymology comes from a story in “The Arabian Nights” when the prince Barmecide pretends to host a lavish feast for a beggar. The beggar plays along, pretending to enjoy the food and wine, but ultimately is disillusioned.

I’ve written quite a bit about the value of creating a practice of spending 20-30 minutes each weekend sorting through your most significant lessons of the past week—personally and professionally—including how these lessons might enlighten you moving forward. I’ve been writing in my physical and, now, digital “Wisdom Books” for 34 years, and I’ve yet to find a more reliable method of metabolizing one’s experiences into wisdom.

Radiant Chip caught my eye in the sky in Jan 2019 Something sparkling on that magazine cover made me love him.

Over the past two decades in my work as a social scientist, I’ve been exploring the nature and psychology of transformative experiences in an effort to understand what they are and how they operate.