Why I Wouldn’t Trade Places With Warren Buffett (Even for $160 Billion)

Because sometimes the richest people aren’t on the Forbes list.

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Warren Buffett is 94 years old and worth $160 billion.

Would you trade places with him?

I heard this question on a podcast recently, and it hit me like a surprise colonoscopy: invasive, but clarifying.

My answer was a hard no.

And I suspect yours is too.

It's a brilliant question because it slices through all the noise about "success" and cuts right to the bone: What do you really value?

Buffett is past the average life expectancy of 77.42 years for men. The Social Security Administration says a 94-year-old man has about 3.63 years left, as long as a sidewalk crack doesn't take him out first.

Yes, he still has 24 hours in a day, just like you and me. But let's be honest—he's probably spending a lot more of them napping.

Buffett's got financial wealth in spades. And he has social wealth too—he finally married his long-time companion and stays mentally active with his business empire. But his time wealth? Almost out. And health wealth at 94? Statistically…not great.

One study showed that less than 1% of men who live to 95 are considered "healthy." The other 99% are mostly trying not to fall over while brushing their teeth.

So again: Would you trade places?

Most of you, dear readers, are in your 50s, 60s, and 70s. We're in the zone where time and health start slipping out of our wallets like loose change—except we can't crawl under the car seat to get them back.

But here's the thing: that doesn't mean we're broke. It means we have to spend differently.

I feel wealthier now than I ever did in my so-called "productive" years. And no, I haven't stumbled into a tech IPO or inherited a vineyard in Tuscany. I've simply acquired something far rarer than money:

Time I get to spend on things that don't grind me down.

Back then? I was overcooked lettuce.

Raising kids, working too much, navigating strained relationships, and dealing with a partner who viewed our finances as an optional group project, while I was out here trying to fund retirement and make Target runs.

The version of me my kids got most often? Stressed, snappy, and not present. I was managing everything except joy.

I even had a few health scares because apparently, stress doesn't reward you with a prize, just bills and biopsies.

These days, I feel wildly wealthy because of the slow, simple things:

• I don't have to rush in the morning.

• I sip my coffee slowly while reading the news (or doomscrolling, let's be real).

• I take a walk, eat a real breakfast, and then—get this—I do things that bring me joy.

Like singing lessons.

Playing with my grandbabies.

Talking with you, beautiful people, here on Substack.

Planning unforgettable trips to Greece for women like me who are ready to say yes to their third chapter.

I have creative wealth. Spaciousness wealth.

No more martyrdom wealth.

And best of all, I've become friends with myself.

Not the polished LinkedIn version—the real me. I had time to figure out who she was, and turns out… she's more than okay in my book.

The shift from being busy with obligation to being busy with intention is no small thing.

When you stop wasting your precious hours on what doesn't matter, such as people-pleasing, overfunctioning, and explaining yourself to those who aren't listening, and start saying yes to what does matter, things open up.

Friendships.

Creative longings you've carried like a secret for decades.

Lighter, sweeter relationships with your children because you're no longer trying to fix, fund, or "teach" them.

The shift from "head of household" to "lover of her people" has been balm on the family. My adult kids get the easygoing, joyful version of causing the relationships to deepen in ways spreadsheets and chore charts never could.

We can't add years to our lives—but we can add life to our years.

This moment right now? It's the youngest you'll ever be again.

Which is both terrifying and strangely empowering.

So no thanks, Warren.

You keep the billions. I'll keep my morning walk and unbothered nervous system.

You don't need Buffett's fortune. You need:

• One good conversation that fills your heart

• One clear hour to do something pointless but joyful

• One brave yes to the thing your soul has been quietly requesting for years.

That, my friend, is real wealth.

You may not have all four kinds—financial, time, health, and social—but you have at least one. If you're reading this, it means you're still rich in something that truly matters. And it's not sink or swim if you only have one.

It's a place to begin.

So tell me:

Which kind of wealth feels abundant for you right now?

Which one's whispering for attention? Comment below. Or better yet, spend a tiny piece of your day as if it actually belongs to you.

You're richer than you think.

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Thanks for all the love on last week’s newsletter. I guess I’m not the only one out here trying to live through pickup truck road rage.

Paula Simmons

sent me a photo of a truck that was parked so close to her that she had to get into her car on the passenger side. I guess they didn’t care for her “Make Orwell Fiction Again” magnet or ACLU bumper sticker.

In case you missed last week’s post, read here ⬇️