I'm not filthy rich! I'm not as rich as people think. It's funny

Hear, O children of truth and humility, the words of Imelda May, the songstress of Dublin whose voice carries both fire and tenderness. She once said: “I’m not filthy rich! I’m not as rich as people think. It’s funny, isn’t it?” At first, her words seem light—an artist laughing at the rumors that surround her—but beneath them flows a river of meaning deeper than gold. For she speaks to the illusion that the world builds around fame: the mirage that wealth equals worth, and that success can be measured in coin. Yet May, with the wisdom of one who has walked both the humble street and the glittering stage, reminds us that what is seen is not always true, and what is valuable is not always visible.

In her laughter lies the voice of a thousand artists and dreamers who have been mistaken for what they are not. The world, blinded by spectacle, often assumes that those who shine must live in endless luxury. But the truth, as Imelda reveals, is simpler and far more human. Her joy comes not from riches but from creation—from the sacred act of turning emotion into song, struggle into melody, and life into art. She laughs not out of bitterness, but out of the beautiful irony that people think her treasures are counted in money, when they are, in truth, counted in music and love. Her quote, though playful, is a gentle rebellion against the illusion of materialism that defines our age.

Long before her, the ancients spoke of this same folly. Diogenes of Sinope, the wandering philosopher, lived in a barrel and owned nothing but a cloak and a lamp. When Alexander the Great offered him anything he desired, Diogenes replied, “Stand out of my sunlight.” In that moment, the richest man on earth bowed before the poorest, for Diogenes had something greater than gold—freedom from wanting more. Imelda’s laughter carries this same spirit. She does not mock wealth itself, but the misplaced faith that wealth defines happiness. Her words are a mirror held up to our time, reflecting how easily the world mistakes fame for fortune, and fortune for fulfillment.

There is, too, a quiet power in her humility. She could have let the myth stand—let the world believe she was “filthy rich” and bask in its envy. But instead, she chose truth. For humility, though softer than pride, is far stronger. It reminds us that authenticity is the highest form of wealth, and that to live honestly in a world of illusion is an act of quiet courage. Through her honesty, Imelda teaches that the truest measure of a person is not what they own, but how deeply they live and how purely they create.

Think of Vincent van Gogh, who died in poverty, selling only one painting in his lifetime. The world ignored his genius while he lived, yet today his work is priceless. He was never “rich,” yet his art enriched the souls of generations. So too does Imelda’s truth remind us: riches fade, but creation endures. The value of a life lies not in its possessions, but in what it gives to the hearts of others. Those who mistake the artist’s light for gold cannot understand that art itself is the reward.

So, let her words be a lamp to those who chase shadows. When you are tempted to measure your worth by the opinions or envy of others, remember Imelda’s laughter. Remember that it is better to live in truth than to glitter in illusion. Let your wealth be the beauty you create, the kindness you share, the joy you bring. Money may build walls, but only truth builds legacy. The artist who sings from the heart leaves behind riches that time cannot steal.

Therefore, my child of this noisy age, take this wisdom to heart: do not be fooled by appearances, nor enslaved by comparison. The world may think you rich or poor, but only you know the state of your spirit. Seek not to be “filthy rich,” but to be richly alive—to fill your days with meaning, your hands with purpose, and your heart with honesty. For as Imelda May so gracefully reminds us, the greatest irony of all is that those who appear to have everything often crave what cannot be bought: peace, authenticity, and love. And those who live truthfully, though the world calls them poor, possess the only treasure that endures.