What Do a Rock Star and a Financial Advisor Have in Common?
How shared loss reveals the invisible threads connecting us all
Nick Cave, meet Ben Carlson.
Ben, meet Nick.
Aw-Shucks Mid-westerner, meet Vampire Poet.
I greatly doubt Nick and Ben have ever met each other.
They live in different worlds. Nick in the world of poetry and concert halls. Ben in the world of stocks and bonds. Nick, when he’s not jet-setting, lives in sunny California. Ben lives with his wife and young children in Michigan. Nick is partial to black. Ben to tropical t-shirts.
I can’t imagine a scenario where they’d end up in the same room together.
So I’m taking the liberty of introducing them here.
Something tells me they’d like each other. Or at least would quickly discover that they have more than a little in common.
As a start, both are prolific “men of letters.”
Ben has pumped out weekly posts on his blog ‘A Wealth of Common Sense’ since 2013. Not to mention 4 books along the way.
Nick just published issue #334 of his beloved The Red Hand Files, in which he thoughtfully responds to questions—big, small and deeply personal—posed by his fans. He has also penned 2 novels, 4 screenplays and two dozen albums of original music.
Both are versatile. Nick acts in movies, performs soul-quaking concerts around the world, and even glazes ceramic figurines. Ben helms two podcasts and, in his day job, advises individuals and institutions on their investments.
Both are regimented. Ben religiously exercises despite everything else he’s juggling. Nick goes to his office daily regardless of whether he feels inspired or not to create. And he literally jumps in a lake every day.
After the usual pleasantries—what do you do, where are you from—their conversation might drift toward something heavier, something that's been weighing on both their minds: death.
Ben might share that his brother Jon died at age 45 of pancreatic cancer earlier this year, leaving behind his wife and three young kids. As he shared in a poignant ode to his brother called ‘There Goes My Hero,’ the loss bowled him over:
At times, I’ve felt like there’s a black cloud hanging over my head. Other times, it’s as if there is a dull knife stuck in the back of my head. Sometimes it crashes into you all at once like a wave…I’m heartbroken, but we have to keep moving forward. That’s what he wanted.
Nick would solemnly nod his head hearing of Ben’s grief. He’s had his own dealings with death and profound loss.
In 2015, his 15-year-old son Arthur died following a fall from a 60-foot cliff. The immediate aftermath, as you probably don’t want to imagine, was horrific:
“It was just absolute emotional chaos 24/7, all the time…we had no control over anything.”
- Nick Cave, in a 2017 interview with Noisey
There’d be a pause in the conversation, then Nick, recognizing the raw grief in Ben’s eyes, would clear his throat and offer up something like:
“…what seems unbearable ultimately turns out not to be unbearable at all…To my great surprise, I discovered that I was part of a common human story…I learned we all actually die. I realised that although each of us is special and unique, our pain and brokenness is not.”
- Nick Cave, The Red Hand Files, Issue #331
Nick himself has found comfort in the universality of death and grief.
On the album Ghosteen, his own ode to his lost loved one, Nick recounted the Buddhist parable of the mustard seed:
Kisa had a baby but the baby died
Goes to the villagers says my baby’s sick
Villagers shake their heads and say to her
Better bury your baby in the forest quickKisa went to the mountain and asked the Buddha
My baby’s sick! Buddha said, don’t cry
Go to each house and collect a mustard seed
But only from a house where no one’s diedKisa went to each house in the village
My baby’s getting sicker, poor Kisa cried
But Kisa never collected one mustard seed
Because in every house someone had diedKisa sat down in the old village square
She hugged her baby and cried and cried
She said everybody is always losing somebody
Then walked into the forest and buried her child- Excerpt from Hollywood by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds (2019)
Kisa, like Nick, was only able to wrap her head around the death of her child upon realizing that she wasn’t alone in her suffering. Every person in every house of her village had been touched by death.
Hearing this, Ben might think of his podcast co-host Michael Batnick, who lost his mother young, and of the countless readers who shared their own grief stories after 'There Goes My Hero.' The sting remains, but it's easier to bear knowing we all carry it.
The conversation would end with a knowing nod. Both would carry away the same truth: whether we deal in stocks or songs, wear tropical shirts or funeral black, we're bound together by the universal currency of loss—and the unexpected grace of finding we're not alone in it.
On his drive home, Ben might find himself listening to Ghosteen for the first time. Nick might bookmark 'A Wealth of Common Sense,' curious about this Midwesterner who understands that life's most valuable assets can't be quantified. Their different worlds bridged by shared grief.
- The Buddh-ish Investor
I’d love to hear from you! Email at Sangha@TheBuddhishInvestor.com or drop a comment below!
Take home points:
Grief is universal, not unique. While our individual losses feel devastatingly personal, the experience of profound grief connects us to every human who has ever loved and lost - making us part of a larger human story rather than isolated in our pain.
Shared suffering creates unexpected bonds. People from completely different worlds—whether they're rock stars or financial advisors—can find deep connection through their common experiences with loss, revealing that our humanity transcends surface differences.
If you’re looking for more:
Ben opening up about his brother’s death on Animal Spirits:
Nick’s palpable grief on this song from Skeleton Tree, an album recorded in the immediate aftermath of his son Arthur’s death: