John Lennon as a life coach, Chihuahuas, and microeconomic miracles

Be it music, poetry, or the economy, life is a bit strange these days鈥攍ike a caffeinated Chihuahua running the Toronto Stock Exchange, wearing sunglasses and muttering about NFTs while inflation licks at its heels like a sunburned cat. But let鈥檚 not measure it by quarters, CPI charts, and the TSX鈥檚 emotional instability. Let鈥檚 count it the  John Lennon way: by friends, not fiscal years. By smiles, not student debt-induced tears.

So here we are鈥�2025, somewhere on the on-ramp of late-stage capitalism, with nepo-babies making art, billionaires jousting in low orbit, and the average avocado costing approximately a mid-sized mortgage payment in West Vancouver. A fair distance from when John Lennon gave life advice in the 70鈥檚. Now, the economists in their air-conditioned towers  will tell you we鈥檙e in for a "resilient soft landing." But that鈥檚 economist-speak: "We have no idea what鈥檚 going on but the PowerPoint looked good.鈥�

Well, forget GDP鈥攈ave you laughed recently? That鈥檚 real value. That鈥檚 your Life Stock Index. Did your barista remember your name? Did you make eye contact with a stranger at the local grocery store,  and neither of you combusted in anxiety? Did you make small talk about the weather? Congratulations: its a microeconomic miracle.
 The economy isn鈥檛 numbers, it鈥檚 people. It鈥檚 guitar riffs of everyday kindness, it鈥檚 taking minimum wage stock and hustle with the glorious poetry of someone doing donuts in a big box store's parking lot to feel alive with the windows down and the system up!  Forget bonds鈥攖alk to the night shift highway gas station attendant named Sage who writes haikus on coffee cups and has a master's in philosophy. They are the GDP of our soul.

Meanwhile, most of the current economy is powered by a combination of fear, novelty, and the deep belief that if we all subscribe to one more thing, enlightenment (or at least free shipping) will arrive. Somewhere, a venture capitalist is pitching a startup that sells kibble to dogs via drone. It has a $200 million valuation and exactly zero customers. The market loves it.

But Lennon, dear John, he had the real portfolio. Friends, not years. Smiles, not tears. The Nasdaq of compassion. The ETF of giggles. Can you short despair? Can you long joy? That鈥檚 the game now, in this world of clicks and likes, where your Uber driver is a former concert pianist and everyone鈥檚 RRSP feels like Schr枚dinger鈥檚 retirement plan鈥攂oth alive and dead until further notice.

So yeah, the economy is weird. It's a clown car stuck in an AI quantum loop, honking every time someone mentions 鈥渓ate-stage.鈥� But maybe the best investment isn鈥檛 in crypto or tech stocks or vintage Beatles albums鈥攊t鈥檚 in each other.
Hold the door open and tip extra. Text your weird but favourite uncle. Laugh too loud. Be the bull market of humour and basic human decency.

And remember, above all else: to subscribe and like is optional, but laughing, with love, about it all is not.

Douglas Zhivago