The oldest lesson in money is not about numbers.
It is about silence.

Four thousand years ago, a Babylonian scribe wrote,

“Gold flees the careless hand.”
He didn’t mean greed alone.
He meant the noise that comes from forgetting what money is for.

We call it wealth, but wealth is only the mirror of rhythm.
When you move too fast, the mirror blurs.
When you pause, it speaks.

Each of the Ten Sacred Rules was carved from that pause:
respect before ownership, stillness before action, return before demand.
They were not formulas — they were breathing instructions.

The ancients did not worship gold.
They listened to it.
They noticed that it stayed with those who moved with purpose
and left those who treated it like applause.

Modern life reversed the order.
We measure peace by profit,
success by exhaustion,
motion by meaning.
But money still obeys its oldest language:
it flows toward clarity,
and away from confusion.

Perhaps that is why the last tablet ended with silence.
Because after all the lessons — respect, patience, purpose, and enough —
there was nothing left to say.
Only to live.

So, if you remember one thing from Babylon, let it be this:
The calm hand holds longer than the clever one.
And wealth, like water, gathers where the noise finally ends.

— Filip Filatov

(From Ten Sacred Rules of Wealth — reflections on the ancient laws of money and modern peace.)