Money, Monkeys, and the Third-Grade Nose Miner
Why the things we buy matter less than the life we trade to buy them.
“If I had a million dollars…
Well, I’d buy you a monkey…”
—Barenaked Ladies
If you teach long enough, your peripheral vision becomes a superpower. You learn to spot brewing arguments, quiz-time eye shifts, and—on recorder days—the unmistakable helicopter-elbow motion that means something deeply questionable is happening.
Sure enough, I turned my head just in time to catch Jack with his finger so far up his nose it looked like he’d lost a limb. When our eyes met, he froze. You could see him weighing his options: finish the job or bail before anyone notices.
He bailed—instantly—because third graders understand reputation.
Here’s the weird thing:
Making money has always felt like Jack’s nose moment for me.
I want the benefit… but I don’t want to be caught wanting it.
Why I Avoided Money for So Long
When I was choosing a major—Theology, English, Philosophy—I wasn’t exactly sprinting toward lucrative fields. I was building an identity around not caring about the material world. The messages around me reinforced it:
“Money is the root of all kinds of evil.”
“Real meaning isn’t found in material things.”
“Don’t look like you’re trying to make money.”
In some circles, denying money felt noble. It felt… virtuous.
But eventually, life forces you to confront the weird truth:
Money is powerful, central, endlessly debated… and completely useless on its own.
You can’t eat it. You can’t live in it. You can’t snuggle it for warmth (I mean, you could, but it’s not efficient).
Money only matters because it can be exchanged.
Which means there are only two ways to think about it:
1. OUTGO — What You Get in Exchange for Money
Look around you: almost everything in sight was traded for money. From coffee to couches to your kid’s guitar, money is the universal “get stuff” token. This is the exciting side—the flashy one, the one that promises possibility.
And honestly? There’s nothing wrong with wanting things.
Even Barenaked Ladies understood this when they rattled off all the silly, joyful things they’d buy with a million dollars — right down to the monkey.
But notice how the song ends:
After all the stuff, the real desire underneath it all is simple —
I’d buy your love.
Meaning:
The stuff is fun.
The monkey is funny.
But the point of wanting money — even in a goofy Saturday-afternoon song — is always something deeper:
more connection, more freedom, more life.
Buying things isn’t the problem.
Believing the things are the point is where we get lost.
2. INCOME — What You Exchange to Get Money
This is the overlooked one: you exchange pieces of your life for money.
Vicki Robin calls this “life energy,” and once I understood that, everything clicked:
“Life energy is all we have. It is precious because it is limited and irretrievable…”
When you work, you’re not just earning. You’re exchanging time — the one resource you can never get back.
Thoreau put it plainly:
“The cost of a thing is the amount of life exchanged for it.”
Which means:
If you’re trading your life for money, you better understand money really, really well.
Wealth Isn’t What You Think It Is
This is where most of us get confused:
Making a lot of money is income.
Having a lot of money is wealth.
You become wealthy not by earning more… but by not spending what you’ve already earned.
A person making $1,000,000 and saving $1 is not wealthy.
A person making $50,000 and saving $25,000 is.
Morgan Housel nails it:
“When most people say they want to be a millionaire, they actually mean: ‘I want to spend a million dollars.’
That is the opposite of being a millionaire.”
Wealth is the nice car not purchased.
The upgraded iPhone not bought this year.
The trip you passed on because future-you mattered.
Not because you’re depriving yourself —
but because you chose something that mattered more.
The Hole You Dig Every Day
Think of your workday like digging a deep hole. The pile of dirt next to it is your earnings — the visible proof of your effort.
Spending is shoveling the dirt back in.
If you’re careless, you’ll end up with a giant mound spilling everywhere — the financial version of overspending and debt.
If you’re thoughtful and intentional, you fill the hole back to level ground…
and the extra pile that remains?
That’s wealth.
Here’s the math of freedom:
Time × (Income – Outgo) = Freedom
Freedom grows in the gap — the difference between what you make and what you keep.
Why Saving Feels So Hard
Saving is emotionally brutal because you gave up a slice of your life for that money. Of course your brain wants to see something for the effort.
Spending feels good now.
Saving feels like nothing now.
But everything you pay monthly — phone plans, subscriptions, interest — either protects your life energy or drains it.
Debt isn’t moral or immoral — it’s just expensive.
A 5% car loan paired with 10% investing returns is workable.
A 20% credit card balance is a wealth-shredding gremlin.
Practice Money Like an Instrument
I tell my students all the time: musicians become musicians through practice, not talent. Same with money.
You don’t get good with money because you have more of it.
You have more money because you got good with it.
Here’s what changed for me:
I stopped seeing budgets and debt payoff plans as restrictions and started seeing them as ways to stop shoveling dirt back into the hole.
I listed my debts by interest rate.
I paid minimums on everything.
Then I picked a strategy:
Debt Avalanche — Attack the highest interest first (best financially)
Debt Snowball — Attack the smallest balance first (best psychologically)
I picked a plan.
I stuck to it.
I chipped away.
Building wealth is the same skill as practicing scales: boring, repetitive, cumulative… and life-changing.
A few questions worth asking yourself:
Are high-interest debts devouring your future?
Are monthly bills quietly siphoning money you’d rather use for freedom?
Are you shoveling dirt back into your hole faster than you dig it out?
The Point of All This
I used to think caring about money meant I didn’t care about people, purpose, faith, meaning, or art.
Now I know this:
Money isn’t the goal.
Life is the goal.
Money is just the tool that protects it.
Even third-grade Jack would understand that much.
Because in the end, the goal was never the money…
or the monkey.
It was the life on the other side of both.