Mick Jagger famously sang, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try, sometimes you’ll find, you get what you need.” Welcome to The Soul Podcast. I’m Stacey Wheeler. We all want what we want—it’s woven into our human nature, a pull toward desires that shape our days. But there’s a space between want and need, a quiet flow where life unfolds, offering what truly sustains us without the fight. Have you ever felt that space, where struggle fades and something deeper takes hold?

In 1943, researcher Abraham Maslow published “A Theory of Human Motivation,” later expanding it in his 1954 book Motivation and Personality, introducing what we now call Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. At its base are physiological needs—food, water, warmth, rest—essential for survival. Next comes safety, encompassing a secure home, job stability, and financial security; without these, we’re left feeling vulnerable, adrift. These are needs, not options. Then there’s love and belongingness, the ache for relationships and connection, followed by esteem—respect from others and self-worth. At the pinnacle sits self-actualization, the drive to become our fullest selves.
Wants, though, are different. They creep in once needs are met—perhaps a better job, a more luxurious lifestyle, or a grander house. Our consumer-driven culture feeds this, whispering that we’re incomplete without the next purchase. How many of us have chased a desire, only to find the happiness fades, pushing us toward the next thing? It’s a cycle, a treadmill of wanting that rarely satisfies. Which makes me wonder: Is contentment even possible if we get everything we desire?

We’ve all heard, “Money can’t buy happiness,” yet most of us still yearn for it. There’s a twist I like: “Money can’t buy happiness, but it can make misery more tolerable.” Let’s assume that’s true for a moment—does a life of tolerable misery sound like the dream we held as children? Maslow’s lower needs—safety and physiological stability—can be met with money, turning raw misery into something bearable when we lack a safe place or food. But what about the higher needs? Paul McCartney sang in 1964, “I don’t care too much for money. Money can’t buy me love.” The Beatles seemed to grasp it: spending on others might attract shallow companionship, but true love and belongingness can’t be purchased. Those who take our gifts may appreciate us, yet their loyalty often reflects their own needs, leaving us questioning if it’s genuine connection or manipulation.
Consider esteem—can money earn us respect, or must that come from within and through our actions? And self-actualization—the desire to be our best self—can money buy education or workshops? Yes, but it doesn’t lift the weights at the gym or shape our character. We must do the work ourselves, which is why it’s called self-actualization. The super wealthy illustrate this struggle. Jeff Bezos spent $500 million on a custom yacht, launched a rocket company with $8 billion (still unprofitable), and rented Venice for a $47–56 million wedding. Kanye West dropped $750,000 on gold-plated toilets. Elvis Presley, with his $250,000 customized jet featuring gold-plated seatbelts and a private bedroom—one of the most expensive of its time—still battled depression and drug abuse, dying in 1977 from cardiac arrhythmia linked to chronic use. His isolation and excess hint at unmet belongingness and purpose, showing wealth can’t fill these voids. Jim Carrey, leaving fame, said, “Everybody should get rich and famous… so they can see it’s not the answer.” Happiness eludes money because it misses the heart of fulfillment.

Despite safety and esteem, Elvis’s life reveals a profound lack in Maslow’s higher needs. His wealth secured a stable home and public admiration, yet love and belongingness eluded him—his isolation suggests a deep loneliness, perhaps from strained relationships or an inability to trust beyond superficial connections. Self-actualization, the pursuit of his fullest potential, also seemed out of reach; his drug abuse and erratic spending reflect a man lost, unable to find purpose amid fame’s demands. For all of us, these needs—interpersonal bonds, self-respect, and a sense of purpose—require more than money; they demand effort and connection. Mark Twain said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” Purpose fuels fulfillment, fostering relationships and esteem. But how do we find it when these needs feel out of reach? Every journey differs, yet we know what doesn’t work: craving more.
Over 2,500 years ago, Buddha identified desire as suffering’s root, warning that striving for pleasure or material gain, driven by attachment or aversion, keeps us trapped. Aversion—reacting negatively to life—breeds unrest, clouding judgment and fueling stress. Buddha’s “Middle Way” suggests striving with wisdom, not blind want, through mindful effort and non-attachment to outcomes, focusing on the present.

Michael Singer, in The Untethered Soul, offers a powerful experiment: observe life’s flow without resistance, surrendering to what is by letting go of clinging or fighting desires. This aligns with Buddha’s wisdom and Jagger’s lyric—when we stop battling wants, life delivers needs. Try it: release a want today, notice the peace. This surrender unlocks fulfillment, guiding us to purpose and connection beyond money. It doesn’t mean ignoring Maslow’s needs; we must still identify gaps—like love or self-worth—to grow stronger, as Elvis’s life painfully shows. Surrender is the starting point, a release from struggle. I’ll share a link to Singer’s books in the show notes.
Stop fighting life—surrender to its flow. Share your experience on X or in the comments (links in notes). Let’s embrace this journey together, finding what we need in love, purpose, and peace.