I was once told that I should change the title of my book because, apparently, “Everyone wants to be prosperous, but not everyone is interested in philosophy.” It was suggested that I use a more subtle, accessible word instead—something people could instantly relate to. A word that would capture attention. Instead of philosophy, which can sound complex, expansive, and overly intellectual, I was encouraged to use something like code or key. For example, The Key to Abundance or The Prosperity Code.
I enjoy conversations about possibilities, so I decided to explore the idea. I asked people around the table what they thought the title should be. The result was evenly split. Some loved The Code, saying it sounded intriguing and mysterious—almost like The Da Vinci Code. Others felt that The Philosophy of Prosperity sounded grounded, strong, and authentic.
In the end, the decision was mine to make. I reflected deeply. I am not writing this book alone; life itself is its co-author. People’s mindsets, their stories, their histories—these are woven into its pages. The title had to honour that depth.
It was not an easy decision. What ultimately guided me was returning to the core message I want to convey. I realised that choosing a catchier title simply for appeal would feel unnecessary. Suggesting that there is a single “key” to unlock wealth makes the journey sound too simple. My book does more than hand you a key—it helps you discover your own door.
The idea of a “code” also felt misleading. A code can be shared or copied without truly understanding it. But philosophy demands engagement, reflection, and personal transformation. It cannot be bypassed.
My final conviction came from remembering the enduring pillars of civilisation: philosophy, theology, poetry, and law. No keys or codes built them—only thought, inquiry, and discipline did.
So I kept the original title. Because in the end, staying true to the message is far more important than chasing attention.