5 Pieces of Advice on Finding Meaning Beyond Luxury

There was a time when my life sparkled. It was all about dinner reservations that required strategy, wardrobes that grew faster than my patience, and late nights that ended in laughter and sore feet. I was working long hours, earning well, surrounded by friends who treated every Friday like a festival. It was exciting, indulgent, loud… and, eventually, a little hollow. Because for all the glitter, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something softer, and truer…was missing.

But once a month, a few of us traded high heels for sneakers and alarm clocks for purpose. We’d pool our money, order catering, and drive to an old orphanage tucked in the hills to do some charity work. The first time I arrived there, everything changed for me.  The air smells of rice and cardamom, plates clinked, and laughter rolled through peeling walls like sunlight. Children darted between tables, an elderly woman asked about my lipstick shade, and an old man teased, “You brought all this food but you’re eating less than I am!” I took another bite just to prove him wrong.  Grace, apparently, sometimes comes with seconds.

The truth? Those mornings stayed with me longer than any luxury dinner. I’d drive home barefoot, perfume faded, hair undone, feeling lighter and strangely full. There’s a peace in giving that no brand, flight, or five-star view can match. The kind that doesn’t inflate you, it steadies you. That’s when I began to understand: luxury without meaning is decoration; service gives it soul.

💎 Here Are My 5 Pieces of Advice on Finding Meaning Beyond Luxury:

1. Redefine abundance. It’s not the number of things you own, but the number of hearts you’ve touched.
2. Give quietly. The world doesn’t need to see your generosity. The joy will echo anyway.
3. Stay connected. People you help may one day help you.  Not with money, but with humanity.
4. Don’t confuse exhaustion with accomplishment. Sometimes the richest moments come when you stop chasing and start serving.
5. Keep your humour intact. If the soup spills or someone critiques your dessert choice, laugh.  Grace digests better with joy.

Years later, I still hear from one or two of the people I met there. They never ask for anything.  Not money, not favours. Sometimes they just check in: “How are you? Are you okay?” And every time, I smile at the irony — they’re the ones with so much less, yet they somehow give more. That’s when you realise friendship can be wealthier than fortune.

These days, I still love elegance. Why who would say no to soft linens, good coffee, the quiet luxury of time? But I’ve learned that grace also wears humility well. True wealth isn’t what sparkles on your wrist; it’s the peace that follows you home.  Because at the end of the day, the most exclusive thing you can offer the world isn’t your status.
It’s your presence — sincere, imperfect, and endlessly human.