Chasing Easy vs. Chasing Meaning - Why Money Isn’t Always the Answer

You know what’s easy to aspire to? Money.

Seriously. It’s dead simple to measure, easy enough to chase if you put your mind to it, and everyone understands it. There’s a certain comfort in it, isn't there? It just… makes sense. Got more in the bank this month than last? Pat on the back, you’re doing something right. New coat, flashy new phone, dinners out where you don’t look at the prices on the right… it’s all very straightforward.

But here’s the rub: just because something is visible, just because you can track it on a spreadsheet, doesn’t mean it actually means anything deep down. Visibility doesn't equal meaning. Honestly, ask yourself: have you ever smashed a financial goal, looked around at the shiny new reality, and had that slightly hollow thought… "Right. Is this… it?"

I have. More times than I’d probably like to admit, actually.

There’s something quietly unsettling about realising the very thing you’ve been sprinting towards doesn’t quite fill the gap you thought it would. It feels a bit like scrambling all the way up a ladder, heart pounding, only to realise it’s been leaning against the entirely wrong wall. You’re perched up there, looking down, and it’s just… weirdly disappointing. All that bloody effort – but for what, exactly?

It reminds me of a study I stumbled across a while back – stick with me here, it’s actually quite revealing. Two psychologists, Tim Kasser and Richard Ryan, wanted to get under the skin of what genuinely makes people happy. Proper happy, mind you, not just “managed a convincing smile for Instagram” happy.

What they did was pretty simple on the surface. They got two groups – a bunch of regular adults, all sorts, and another lot of university students – and asked them to jot down their big life goals. Not the goals they felt they should have, the ones plastered on billboards and shoved down our throats, but the ones they genuinely cared about, way down deep.

Then, they sorted these goals into two piles. First up: the extrinsic goals. Think money, fame, status, looking good on the outside. All the shiny, noisy stuff society tells us equates to success. The second pile held the intrinsic goals – the quieter aspirations. Things like building deep, meaningful friendships, growing as a person, feeling properly connected, maybe even contributing something useful to the world around you.

After listing their dreams, big and small, everyone filled out these hefty questionnaires. They measured happiness, sure, but also anxiety, stress levels, even physical stuff like how often people got headaches or felt utterly knackered. Proper detailed, none of this surface-level fluff.

And the results? Honestly, quite fascinating.

The folks whose lives were geared towards chasing the shiny, extrinsic stuff – the money, the image, the external applause – were consistently less happy. They reported feeling emptier, more stressed out, even physically worse off, despite ticking off some impressive-sounding achievements. It was like they’d won the prize, only to find the box was empty. Or worse, filled with more anxiety.

But the people prioritising those quieter, intrinsic goals? The personal growth, the solid relationships, the learning for learning’s sake? They consistently reported feeling happier, calmer, more alive, more fulfilled. These weren't necessarily the kinds of wins you'd shout about on LinkedIn, but they were the ones that genuinely nourished the soul, leaving people feeling properly good about who they were.

Funny how that works, isn't it?

Kasser and Ryan reckoned it’s because those intrinsic goals tap into our fundamental psychological needs – the real, human stuff we often ignore but always feel the lack of. Things like genuine connection (not just networking), feeling competent at something that matters (not just busywork), and experiencing authentic growth rather than just ticking boxes. These goals are subtle. They don't shout; they whisper.

Money, fame, looking the part – they shout. Loudly. They promise the earth. But the buzz wears off sharpish. Hit one target, and another, higher one instantly pops into view. Earn that extra £5k, and suddenly you need another £10k. Get the nicer flat, and now only a bigger house will do. It’s a treadmill. An exhausting, slightly depressing treadmill.

Now, don't get me wrong – money is important. Crucial, even. You need it to keep a roof over your head, eat something other than instant noodles, and maybe enjoy the odd treat without inducing a panic attack. It smooths the edges of life, no doubt. But when it morphs from a tool into the main goal – your primary driver – that's when things get messy. What seems simple and measurable suddenly becomes frustratingly elusive. It promises ease but often delivers a weird, nagging emptiness. You’re always climbing, always reaching, but never quite arriving.

And that's the uncomfortable bit, isn't it? Figuring out what genuinely lights you up is harder work than just chasing the next pay rise. It demands you slow down. Stop scrolling, stop comparing, stop optimizing for a minute. It requires a bit of quiet honesty, properly listening to yourself – not just skimming your own thoughts like they’re notifications, but actually tuning in. Properly.

When was the last time you actually did that? Sat down, maybe with a coffee, maybe just staring out the window, and asked yourself, "Stripping away the 'shoulds' and the 'supposed tos,' what makes me genuinely happy?" Not just what looks impressive or feels productive, but what brings that quiet, internal hum of contentment? Maybe it’s losing hours talking rubbish with mates, the ones you don't need to perform for. Maybe it's getting lost in making something, writing something, learning a skill just because it sparks your curiosity – not because it’ll look good on your CV or impress your boss.

The annoying truth? These quieter, intrinsic goals rarely come neatly packaged. They’re often messy, subtle, and unpredictable. And unlike your bank balance, there are no neat metrics to track. No graphs charting your progress towards 87% meaningfulness this quarter.

But maybe… maybe that’s exactly why they’re so valuable. They force you to slow down, to notice, to feel. They ask you to resist the easy dopamine hit of the next achievement, the next purchase, the next external validation. They gently challenge you to find richness in the smaller, quieter moments – the stuff nobody else might applaud, but that you’ll look back on years later with a quiet, genuine smile.

So, next time you catch yourself chasing the numbers, the promotion, the next rung on that ladder – just pause. Just for a second. Ask yourself honestly: "Am I chasing something meaningful, or am I just chasing easy?" Because while money can definitely make life smoother, it rarely, on its own, makes life truly richer.

And trust me, when you look back – properly look back, years from now – you might just find that the things you chased quietly were the ones making the most beautiful noise all along.