That’s Only Reserved for the Rich

The lie that keeps us from living the life we were meant for.

I’ve heard it more times than I can count:

“That’s only reserved for the rich.”

They say it when I talk about the trails I’ve hiked.
The rivers I’ve followed.
The weeks spent with no cell signal, no deadlines, and no fixed address.

But here’s the truth—
The times I’ve felt most free were the years I made almost nothing.
Living out of my truck.
Cooking meals over a whispering stove.
Sleeping under stars so bright they made me forget about the things we’re taught to chase.

No one was sending me checks to do this.
I just chose a different path.

And yes, I’ve worked plenty of “jobs.”
Life moves in cycles—sometimes you roam, sometimes you refuel.
Sometimes we need to save up for the next big adventure, the next chapter.
But even while working, I put a portion away—not just for future adventures, but for long-term needs too. This lifestyle doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It’s possible to have freedom now and later.

I’m just not willing to spend the most vital, energetic, wide-eyed years of my life sitting in traffic, staring at screens, begging for permission to take ten days off so I can finally feel alive.

I refuse to spend the best part of my life saving the good stuff for the end—
grasping at my dreams when I’m too tired to live them.

The idea that freedom is only for the wealthy is one of the most dangerous myths we’ve ever believed.
It’s not true.
It’s never been true.
You don’t need millions.
You need intention.
You need to want it more than you want comfort and convenience.

Because a lot of what people call “security”
is just fear with a price tag.

What I’ve learned is this:
Your dreams become reality when you commit to them.
When you stop waiting for permission.
When you live like your time on this planet actually matters—because it does.

***

If this message speaks to something inside you, the best way to support my work is through my books. They’re written for wanderers, for wild hearts, for anyone ready to live a little closer to what’s real. You can find them at scottstillmanblog.com

Thanks for being here—and for walking the road less traveled with me.

PHOTO: Paddling the Colorado River through Utah