What Would You Do If Money Wasn’t An Issue?
It’s one of those questions that gets tossed around in dorm rooms and podcasts like it’s some harmless daydream. But when you actually stop and feel it, not answer it from your ego, not answer it for social points, but sit with it… it gets haunting.
Because most men realize they don’t know.
They’ve never let themselves imagine without limits. They’ve been on autopilot so long, chasing survival, clout, and external validation that they’ve lost touch with their actual wants. Their actual vision.
Think about it. How much of what you do is for yourself, your true desires and needs over what you were conditioned to do? Conditioned to post for views and likes? Conditioned to say and think to be accepted?
And no. This doesn’t mean the morons posting hyper-racist/women-loathing victimized tweets are on the money about this. They’re more lost than others, they just don’t realize it.
If you were to take a list of things you do from sun-up to sun-down for every day of the week, how much of these activities do you do because you were programmed for it? Like waking up and scrolling first thing. Texting a bland good morning to your girl. Taking the bus with all the other loud cretins to work. Saying hello to the boss and co-workers you despise. Fake smiles in front of gritted teeth. Go to lunch as some basic spot that your taste buds don’t even isolate and feel anymore. Go home on the same transportation surrounded by loud idiots. You’re tired so you plop on the couch to watch Netflix. Go to sleep high, self-jerked off, only to repeat this for 4 more days. Nothing interesting planned for the weekend. Etc.
I could go on in quite thorough detail for a while.
But the point I will eventually drive home to your noggin is that you are not living even 10% to your true desires.
And yes, without money a lot of things we’d like to experience would be difficult or nearly impossible. But of course, I’ll eventually cover that in a later blog on how to go about your wants and needs without breaking the bank or becoming a filthy rich millionaire (which is still in the cards for every Raw Manifesto reader, btw).
So I’ll ask you again.
What would you do if money wasn’t a concern?
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P.S. All photos used in today’s post are 100% mine, either of me or taken by me. Just to drive home that I live by my own words and am not just a writer LARP-typing bullshit like 90% of the people on here.
Desires
Would you playboy around Europe for a few years and taste the pleasures of the Earth?
Would you settle down, raise your own family, and start a bloodline worth remembering?
Would you surf in the mornings and snowboard in the afternoons, your life dictated by tides and weather patterns, not Zoom calls and deadlines?
Would you:
Go on mountaineering expeditions once a month just to remember how small you are and see the beauty of the world
?
Build a herblore lab, experimenting with plants and potions like some off-grid alchemist?
Compete in jiu-jitsu tournaments around the world?
Build software that solves a problem no one else dared touch?
Or would you do none of that? Would you stroll streets tasting food in every country? Would you write, dance, train, teach, father, love without restraint?
Most Men Don’t Know Their Desires
The tragedy isn’t that most men won’t ever live their dreams.
It’s that most men don’t even know what their dreams are. Just walking around empty-minded, empty-dreamed, empty vessels out to fulfill greater men’s dreams.
They’ve never defined the texture of their desire. Never visualized their ideal day. The fabric of clothing they wear in their idealized world. The woman they wake up to. The friends they receive text invites to dinners from.
When you remove money from the equation, when survival is no longer the game, you are faced with the raw, naked truth:
What do I actually want my life to look like?
You want to find purpose? Start there.
Not with goals.
Not with frameworks.
Not with grinding.
Start with desire.
Mirror of Death
If I died tomorrow, would I be satisfied?
I know I haven’t done nearly enough. I haven’t maxed out my vision, nor touched every peak I wanted to. But I also know this:
I’d be proud of the places I’ve been. The feelings I’ve felt. The risks I took that made me feel alive.
I know I’ve seen more, done more, lived more in my twenties than most men will taste in a lifetime.
That’s not bragging. That’s just what happens when you stop living by default and start asking bigger questions. The right questions.
That’s what happens when you live spontaneously. Accept text invites to different lands from friends. Get inspired by a blog or post you see on Instagram and do some digging. Book a flight 40 minutes after you’ve been inspired. No double thinking. Worrying. Just fucking do it, kid. Where the fuck are your balls?
You can literally die tomorrow via brain aneurysm, healthy as a baby. Live now. Your bitch of a boss won’t let you go despite you rarely ever taking off? Tell him to suck it and seek out his wife to make sure she sucks it first. Get another job after a few weeks off. You’re that fucking man, no? Stop being tied down to bullshit by people who wouldn’t attend your funeral. Fuck everyone who isn’t aligned to your vision. Use who you must and use those resources to fuel your desires.