You know, we humans have always been obsessed with owning things. It’s like we’ve convinced ourselves that piling up houses, cars, land, and assets will somehow make our lives complete. We pour so much of our time, money, and energy into chasing this idea of “success,” but deep down, there’s this uncomfortable truth staring us in the face: none of it lasts.

When it’s all said and done, we leave the world the same way we came into it—with nothing. All the stuff we worked so hard to collect. It just sticks around, waiting for someone else to claim it in the endless cycle of “mine” and “yours.”

Here’s the thing: owning something is just a story we’ve all agreed to believe. Think about it! Your house, your car, that plot of land with your name on a deed? Sure, you can call it yours, but history doesn’t care. Civilizations have come and gone, their mighty empires reduced to rubble and dust. The kings, queens, and business moguls who once claimed the earth for themselves. Yeah, time didn’t bother to ask for their permission before moving on.

Meanwhile, the planet keeps spinning, completely indifferent to what we think we own. Seasons come and go, trees grow, rivers carve out new paths, and mountains slowly crumble. All the stuff we call “ours” is just on loan from the earth. And whether we like it or not, nature has a strict no-returns policy which eventually, goes back to where it came from.

Owning things can feel pretty good, right? It makes us feel accomplished, secure, maybe even important. But here’s the catch: the more we chase material things, the more we miss out on the stuff that makes life meaningful. Things like love, creativity, human connection, and inner peace.

It’s an old idea, but it still rings true. Remember that line from Ecclesiastes? “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” It’s a reminder that no matter how much we accumulate, it’s all temporary. The things that truly stick with us are the moments we treasure, the people we love, and the lessons we learn.

When our time’s up, all the things we spent our lives hoarding—houses, money, gadgets— they’re passed on to someone else or forgotten altogether. Even our names might eventually fade from memory. But here’s the good news: the things that matter can outlive us.

The kindness we show, the values we live by the knowledge we share—those things leave ripples that can touch lives long after we’re gone. Instead of obsessing over what we can own, maybe we should focus on what we can give.

Once you accept that nothing you own is truly permanent, life gets a little lighter. It’s freeing, really. Instead of measuring success by the size of your bank account or the square footage of your house, you start to see what really counts: the memories you make, the lives you impact, and the way you choose to show up in the world.

At the end of the day, the earth doesn’t care about our titles, possessions, or so-called accomplishments. It just keeps spinning, hosting generation after generation. And honestly? That’s kind of beautiful.

Life is short—a blink, really. But in that blink, we can make a difference. We can treat the earth like the precious gift it is, take care of the people we meet, and leave behind something that matters. Because while we can’t take anything with us, we can make sure the world is a little better for the ones who come after us. And maybe, just maybe, that’s all the legacy we need.