We’ve all been there. We know what it’s like to have to scrape money to get by. We do so by gathering all the loose change in the cup holders of our cars — most of them sticky with filth and spilled coffee. We go through our jacket pockets hoping to find a crinkled dollar bill that will mysteriously show up if we reach inside the zipper for the third time. We get excited for holidays because we know we have the chance of receiving a check from our loved ones.

Money is a valuable item in today’s world, no doubt. We need it to pay to pay bills, keep food on the table and obviously for recreational use. We need it to keep up with trending technological items — iPhone, iPad, iThis, iThat. Besides necessities, we ultimately use money for happiness. Everything comes at a price, and our happiness is not free.

I used to agree with this. I had this notion that the more money I could earn, the more money I could spend — the happier I’d be. My bi-weekly direct deposit would allow me to spend money like a rich man the first few days I received my pay stub from work. Slowly decreasing day by day, spending less and less until I could count on that renewed bi-weekly payment.

I, like most of us, spent my money first on the essentials. The payments due for my bills, personal care, food etc. And then came my recreational use. I needed money for this, I needed money for that. Believe it or not, I didn’t need anything at all but I spent money like I did. I was always trying to upgrade my belongings and found that every time I did, the price would increase. I was scraping by to purchase valuables that either I already had or I thought I needed to make me happy. In the midst of my spending dollar after dollar, I realized that the more money I spent on happiness, the less happy I was. I was never fulfilled, and it didn’t dawn on me until I had an eye-opening epiphany.

I was driving in my car with no absolute destination on a Saturday afternoon. I had no money to hold and no money to spend. Aggravated, I set out on an adventure to waste time instead of sitting in the house. It wasn’t until about 20 minutes into my journey that I saw a sign that read Rustic Road that caught my attention. I took a right, gravitating to the sign and followed the road. Needless to say, not even five minutes in, I was shocked by the beauty of what I saw. Vibrant green trees in heavy, overgrown wooded areas. Nature was hanging over the road encapsulating my little black car into the forest within. For the first time in a while, I found myself smiling. Smiling because I was experiencing something money couldn’t buy me – Earth’s nature.

I completely fell in love with the beauty of what was in front of me. I wanted more, and I wanted it all the time. I felt fulfilled as I was driving on this rustic road, and I had this sense of yearning to get out and explore all that was around me. There was no down payment to make or tax to pay. No tips had to be given and no transaction was involved. I finally figured that the whole time I was worrying about money on gifts to myself, I had something even better right in front of me, for no cost at all. And that something was nature.

I get it — nature is not for everyone and it doesn’t have to be. But understanding the complexity and beauty of something that is worth more than money can buy is was truly gives an individual fulfillment. So many ideas come to my mind now when I think of all of the things money

can’t buy. The wagging tail of a dog who is happy to see his owner when he walks through the door, or the birth of a newborn child. A smile from a boy who hits his first grounder in t-ball game, or an acceptance letter for a girl who is the first in her family to get into college. Maybe it’s the relationship of a grandfather and his grandson who give each other unexpected life lessons or a daughter who rides her bike without training wheels for the first time. It’s examples like these that money cannot buy that can make us forget all of the troubles that come along with spending money. Money can’t buy happiness.