When my boss and co-worker bought new cars, I got this inexplicable, almost primal urge to do the same.
The new-car-thought became a part-time obsession and I hunted through digital lots like a hunger crazed Neanderthal navigating prehistoric landscape.
…But I also do a healthy amount of daily inner work.
And so I leaned into this urge with eyes wide.
I understood that the forces at work were, yes, maybe something primal, but also largely a brainwashed modern belief that faster, sleeker, more expensive was what I needed.
I eventually narrowed in on this beautiful, beast of a car that was expensive, but within my means.
It was either that, I decided, or I would reinvest in my current car—one that was still running beautifully, was a beast in her own right, and—most importantly—was completely paid off.
The financial difference between these two decisions was almost $20,000.
And when I told a friend what I was thinking, he leaned in and almost whispered in my ear, “Upgrades for your current car won’t scratch that new car itch.”
And it was in that moment that I knew what I “needed” to do.
And so I whispered back to myself, “Challenge accepted.”
And I not only reinvested into my car (and saved $20,000), but I reinvested back into myself.
…Because taking care of what you already have, growing appreciation, and quieting the endless noise about more is exactly the kind of work my inner was signaling for right from the moment I told myself that story about those two new cars.