Money is very good at one job: buying the freedom to say no. It needs clear instructions to do it.
For most of my twenties I treated money as a scoreboard. The number in the account was a verdict on whether I was doing well, and like any scoreboard, it only ever pointed in one direction: more.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to ask the obvious question. What is the money for? Not in the abstract. Specifically. What would I do with it that I am not already doing, and what am I giving up to get it?
On the difference between visible faith and performed faith, and what remains when no one is watching.
Everything compounds, not just money. The question is which habits you want working for you.
Adult friendships survive because someone maintains them. Usually that someone has to be you.
Price is never just arithmetic. It is a statement about what you believe your work is worth.