I've three children, three grandchildren, I work, I travel, and

Hear the words of Joan Collins, who declared: “I've three children, three grandchildren, I work, I travel, and I'm very happily married. I'm very satisfied and happy with my life and there really isn't anything I want.” At first, this statement appears as a simple description of blessings counted. Yet within its calm certainty lies a treasure of wisdom: that true fulfillment does not lie in endless striving, but in the balance of love, labor, and gratitude. To say “there really isn’t anything I want” is no small claim—it is the ancient dream of contentment realized.

The presence of children and grandchildren is the echo of one’s life beyond the self. They are the living legacy, the continuation of the story, the proof that one’s love and care ripple through the generations. To mention them first is not accidental: it reminds us that joy is found not in possessions, but in people. The ancients too placed family as the foundation of contentment, for he who nurtures his lineage plants trees under whose shade he may never sit, yet whose branches shelter the future.

Yet Collins also speaks of work. She does not rest solely on family or on memory, but continues to labor, to create, to offer her gifts to the world. For the soul with no work soon withers, and the mind with no purpose soon grows restless. The ancients praised not idleness, but the harmony of useful labor and earned rest. To work while content is not a burden but a blessing, for it keeps the spirit strong and the heart alive.

She speaks too of travel, the movement of the body across lands and the movement of the spirit across experiences. To travel is to remain curious, to seek freshness, to drink from many streams of life. It shows us that satisfaction is not stagnation: even the content soul may wander, not in search of what is missing, but in gratitude for the abundance of the world. For one may be complete within and still delight in the variety beyond.

And then she declares the treasure at the heart: she is happily married. This is the companion’s gift, the lifelong bond that steadies the years. The ancients spoke often of friendship and love as anchors of a flourishing life. For what use are children, work, or travel if the heart is lonely? To have found a partner of joy, to share the burdens and the delights—that is a crown upon life’s labor. It is no wonder she proclaims herself satisfied, for love gives meaning to all the rest.

The origin of such wisdom lies not in chance but in long endurance. Joan Collins has lived through triumphs and losses, through youth and age, through seasons of abundance and of trial. To stand at such a place and declare “there really isn’t anything I want” is to bear witness to a life well-balanced, where desires have ripened into gratitude. It is the same wisdom that kings and sages sought, yet seldom found: the art of being satisfied.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not seek endlessly for more, but tend to the essentials. Nurture your family, honor your work, keep curiosity alive through travel, cherish the bond of love, and above all, cultivate gratitude for the life you already possess. In practical terms: spend more time with loved ones, invest yourself in work that has meaning, seek out new experiences without greed, and honor the relationships that sustain you. These are the true riches, and they outlast the fleeting luster of gold.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, heed the counsel hidden in these words. Contentment is not the absence of desire but the fullness of gratitude. When you can look upon your days and say, “there really isn’t anything I want,” you have touched the summit of human happiness. Strive not for endless gain, but for balance, for harmony, for joy in what is already yours. For the satisfied heart is the strongest fortress, and the grateful soul the richest treasure on earth.