True fulfillment comes from being, not getting.

What Socrates knew about divine closeness and why it's key to a life of inner wholeness.

Socrates once said, “Those who want the fewest things are nearest to the gods.”

At least, that’s what Diogenes said that Socrates said.

At least, that’s what somebody said Diogenes said that Socrates said (I wasn’t there).

Another form of this quote from Socrates is, “Having the fewest wants, I am nearest to the gods.”

Regardless of how he said it, his point is clear: having fewer wants is a sign of being closer to the divine.

At first glance, it sounds like a call to minimalism, doesn’t it? A kind of stoic self-denial where you look at your long list of desires and say, Nope, not today. I’m better than this. That’s certainly how I used to interpret it.

Back then, I thought fewer wants meant suppressing the ones I already had. Resisting. Denying. But that’s because I had wants. A lot of them. Worldly wants.

You know the kind: the shiny things, the validations, the fleeting highs that we chase because we think they’ll make us feel whole. And, sometimes, for a short while, they do... until they inevitably don’t.

But here’s the thing I didn’t understand at the time: the path to fewer wants isn’t about denial. It’s about spiritual evolution.

The Shift From Wanting to Being

What I’ve come to realize is that when Socrates spoke of having fewer wants, he wasn’t talking about forcing yourself to give up the things you crave. He was pointing to a deeper transformation, one where you no longer want those things in the first place.

He wasn’t saying to get rid of wants in order to be closer to “the gods.” I believe he was pointing out an observation.

The “fewer wants” is not the goal, it’s just a byproduct of a deeper sense of fulfillment that transcends form and circumstance.

It’s not about white-knuckling your way through desire. It’s about becoming so complete within yourself that the wanting just... fades.

Because when you feel whole—when nothing is missing in your life—everything external becomes optional. A bonus. An enhancement. Occasionally nice to have, sure, but unnecessary.

A cherry on top of a sundae that’s already perfect. The foam art on a well-crafted cappuccino. The rainbow bending across an already stunning view.

This is the kind of freedom we’re all secretly searching for. Not the freedom to have more, but the freedom to want less.