There is a famous Zen koan:
“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.”
I’m sorry to tell you, my friend, but the mimosa by the poolside dream comes from the wealth porn we’ve been watching since the 80s with Robin Leach’s “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”
I’ve known super rich people who became hollowed-out-shells after their children died in a private plane crash or after a drug overdose.
A very dear friend of mine — the younger brother I never had — was so racked with guilt after his wife died of cancer at a young age, he talked himself into thinking his 10-year-old son would be better off being an orphan and remedied the situation with a rifle.
No matter how bad things may be going for you, it’s your ability to get up off the ground, brush off the dust (and maybe manure) and get back up on that horse.
In the end, it doesn’t even matter if you break that bronco or he runs off, never to be seen again. It’s just you, playing the game the best you can.