A few years ago, I went to the Louvre in Paris for the first time.

If you haven't been, it's a massive vault of the most influential and inspiring art in the world. Acre after acre, floor after floor, of curated masterpieces. An archive of human creativity throughout the ages.

And at the very heart of it all, is a hoard of people, all fixing their attention—and cameras—on one single painting. That painting is, of course, The Mona Lisa.

After pushing through the crowds of tourists, and patiently waiting my turn, this is the photo I got.

I wanted to take a picture of what it was really like to be there.

To document the absurdity of the experience, rather than the piece of art I could have easily googled. I wasn't so much enamored by the painting, but rather, I was captivated by the people1.

After spending a few cycles watching the swarms of tourists form and dissipate, I turned to leave the room. And that was when, I found myself frozen.

My feet were glued in place, my gaze was fixed upward. I had been, for the first time that day, consumed by true beauty. A enigmatic beauty, worthy of hours of contemplation. I had unexpectedly found the most magnificent piece in the entire Louvre, hidden in plain sight.

I had found the Wedding Feast at Cana.

This piece makes you feel like an ant, or like when you visit New York City and stare straight up from the base of the Empire State building. It’s 32 feet tall and weighs one and a half tons—making it roughly 450 times larger than the Mona Lisa.

I stood there, alone, contemplating the grandeur of the scene. 130 human figures, each a unique curiosity, each a romantic symbol.

But what truly flattened me, was the realization that I—and the bullrush of people snapping photos and taking selfies—had to walk right past it to get to the Mona Lisa. 

I was incredulous, why did no one else care?

Why were they all spending their time looking at the curious woman across the way? A woman that they had presumably seen countless times online, in books, and on TV.

The masterpiece I had found was so much better. It was so much more intriguing, and lively, and grand.

And no one cared…

A Tourist In Your Own Life

Checking the boxes of places we should go, and things we should do—without truly experiencing anything—is the definition of a tourist.

While we can easily slip into this pattern when traveling abroad, we’re not immune to its pull in our everyday lives either.

Often times, we find ourselves clamoring around the things that we were told are important, without really understanding why. Social relics that, for reasons unknown, supposedly warrant our attention. In our daily lives, this manifest as reverence for things like; Knowledge, Fame, Pedigree, and above all—Money

Money, far and away, has captured our imaginations, and our veneration.

But the pursuit of money without understanding why, can be a bit like skipping the rest of the Louvre, just to see the Mona Lisa. It’s like being a tourist, in your own life.

When traveling, mindlessly snapping pictures—and chugging experience—will leave you feeling empty. We feel that same emptiness when pursuing money without knowing the “why” behind it. 

So naturally, we should ask, “Well…why are we pursing money?”

I originally thought the answer was: To become masters over our time. But I was wrong. While money allows you to free up your time and gives you autonomy over your life, that’s not the whole picture.

We have to go one step further, we have to probe the purpose of time. Why do we want autonomy over our lives? Why do we want all this free time?

To sit alone, watching TV all day?

To fill the rest of our lives reading thousands of books?

To sit by ourselves on a private island, sipping piña coladas?

No, the answer is, and always has been people. We want time, so that we can spend it with people. So that we can engage with humanity, build relationships, find love, raise a family, teach others, and make the lives of everyone who will outlive us just a tiny bit better.

All the money, and all the free time in the world, is meaningless if you don’t have people to spend it with. 

Money without People

The irony of money is that, in its pursuit, we often fracture the very relationships we hope to cultivate.

We skip nights and weekends with friends, to put in a few more hours at work. We miss weddings. We miss funerals. We make a thousand little concessions that slowly corrode the bonds that tie us to the people we love the most.

Then, when the day comes that we’ve finally accumulated enough to relax, we look around and realize, we’re all alone.

Like tragic hero of a Grecian drama, we become the architects of our own misery.

By pursuing money, without first recognizing its purpose we choose to wait in line with thousands of people and take pictures of a picture2. One that, upon reflection, we may not have given a shit about in the first place.

The opposite of money

That day in the Louvre, I learned an important lesson. One that I’ve taken note of, and contemplated, each year since.

Now, whenever I reach “The Destination”, or whenever I think “I’m There”—I make sure to turn around, and look in the other direction.

Often times, I’ll find that directly opposite of a beautiful landmark—or natural viewpoint— is something equally bewitching, but radically overlooked.

Money and Relationships, are just such opposites. 

Not in the sense that they are antithetical to each other, but rather, that they are two masterpieces inhabiting the same room at opposite ends. One will always be the talk of the town, while the other is merely a consolation prize for the curious traveler.

Both Money and Relationships can make for worthy prizes in life, but before pursuing either we should consider one simple fact: Relationships without Money, can still nurture a lovely existence. While Money without Relationships, is nothing more than a cruel and solitary misery. 

It’s poetic to think that, the most popular painting in the world is of a woman alone in a box. While, quite possibly, the most underappreciated painting in the world is of 130 people in the throws of conversation and revelry.

One, the eternal fixation of human desire. The other, an overlooked masterpiece.

—Zac

Let’s jam together in the comments!

1. Have you ever had this experience, where something beautiful was happening just opposite of where everyone was looking?

2. Do you believe that there is a point to our lives, even greater than our relationships with other people?

3. Share something you’ve been working on! I’d love to see some of your creative works. Feel free to drop a link!