We've got money problems, or rather, we've got problems with "money".

Wedge, wonga, grand and shrapnel, dosh, fivers, bucks and greenbacks - no word has so many synonyms, not even "sex". We are endlessly obsessed by it, we think about it morning, noon, and night. We can't live without it, though sometimes we can't live with it...

"Hey! Big Spender!", "Money Makes the World Go Round....", "Money! Money! Money!", we sing about it, we shout about it, we dance to its tune, though we rarely choose it as mood music.

We have our reservations: "Money can't buy happiness"... "Money is the root of all evil". The bible warns that "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven". Greed is one of our favourite seven deadly sins.

In Greek mythology Midas had one wish - everything he touched should turn to gold. This was fun at first, but soon became a problem when his food became bars of gold and his daughter turned into a statue. Soon he was begging the gods to reverse his deadly gift, jumping into the river to wash away his golden curse.

Croesus was so rich that he allowed his guests to take away as much gold as they could carry. One, greedier than most, asked to come back later. Croesus agreed, and the guest returned with hundreds of pockets sewn into his tunic, his body and hair greased so he could roll in the gold dust, his mouth crammed with coins. The Gods surely frowned on this golden fool.

We love to hear stories of lottery winners who waste it all, footballers jailed for speeding, pop stars blowing the lot on drugs. But isn't this more than just gloating at others' misfortune? Perhaps we really do believe in the curse of excess wealth and, deep down, aren't we secretly convinced that there is a price to be paid in the end?

We must remember Shakespeare: "All that glisters is not gold". And we should ignore the advertising men telling us to buy more, the politicians shouting "Consume!", the friends endlessly trading up to bigger houses, at the cost of a ruined work-life balance. Who do we trust more: the voices of antiquity, the Bible and Shakespeare, or the politicians, marketing men and newspaper headlines?

To stop racing mindlessly round the hamster wheel, to get off the carousel, to freeze the movie, there is one simple question to confront, and that is this: "How much do I really need?" This question, so easy to ask, is so very difficult to answer. Any answer, though, provides a snapshot of who we are and what we should do next, as well as a fixed point of reference in an unstable world. It is also the question "they" don't want us to ask, because maybe, probably, surely, we would not buy their baubles. But in responding  we take back control, we assert our will and we define our own destinies. We draw a line in the sand, and we know ourselves all the better for it.

In their search for the philosopher's stone, the Alchemists spent their time turning lead into gold. But it takes an expert eye to make sure this gold is real and, anyway, who said lead wasn't useful?

Don't be fooled by fool's gold: how much do you really need?