The Moon and Sixpence “Money can be earned again; a new job can be found; new

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—The Moon and Sixpence, W. Somerset Maugham (UK)

The Moon and Sixpence follows Charles Strickland—a successful man with a settled family life—who, in middle age, abruptly abandons everything to chase a painter’s life.

His bravery is stirring; his rejection of family responsibility is harder to admire. In that light, his wife, Amy, is the one who shines.

After seventeen years as a full-time homemaker, Amy watches her life break apart in an instant. She doesn’t collapse. She accepts what’s happened and faces forward. In the end, she builds a career of her own and raises their two children well. Amy shows us that no matter what you lose, life can begin again.

We don’t lose the “game” by failing in the moment; we lose it when we stop playing for the long run. Sometimes you have to give yourself a push—let go of the past and start over. When you stop fearing loss and find the nerve to begin from scratch, you discover that loss can be a kind of deliverance.

01.Maturity often begins with loss

Amy grew up in a diplomat’s household—poised, well-mannered, used to a life where most things came easily, even love. After marrying Charles, she dedicated herself to the home; everything ran like clockwork. For seventeen years she was, by any measure, an exemplary wife.

Then one day, Charles simply vanished—no warning, no note. With the household expenses dependent on him, Amy was at a loss for a moment. But her steadiness returned quickly. She worried for his safety and thought hard about how to bring him back.

At first she considered asking her brother-in-law, Colonel Andrew, to intervene. But the two men had never got on; that might make things worse. So, after some thought, she asked one of Charles’s friends to talk to him instead.

News came back soon. Charles hadn’t run off for an affair; he’d left to paint. The friend pleaded with him—think of your wife and children—but Charles was unmoved. He would not return.

When the friend reported this, Amy’s sister and brother-in-law tried to console her: surely he’d be back once the impulse passed. Amy answered plainly: “I don’t want him back.” She divorced him soon after.

People have said it forever in different ways: the only constant in life is change. As the years go by, we lose things—jobs, friends, even loved ones. Yet it’s those losses that temper us, teach us, and carry us toward maturity: from fragile to resilient, from leaning on others to standing with the strength of an army all our own.

02.If someone walks away, let them

At first, Amy still held out hope for Charles. But when she heard that his friend had tried to appeal to his sense of duty—to his wife and children—and Charles responded with a flat, unfeeling “no,” that last thread of hope snapped.

After seventeen years of giving, she understood: a man consumed solely by himself isn’t someone you can—or should—hold on to.

Time proved how clear-headed she was. After the divorce, Charles took up with Blanche, the wife of another friend. Blanche adored him. She posed for him—naked, if it helped—anything to feed his inspiration. And when he’d taken what he wanted, he threw her out. Humiliated and heartbroken, Blanche ended her life.

It’s a painful ending. If Amy had swallowed her pride and stayed, Blanche’s fate might have been her own.

As the old saying goes, some people are in your life for a season, not a lifetime. Over time, true character shows. Those who want to stay can’t be pushed out; those who want to go can’t be persuaded to remain. So if a relationship ends abruptly, don’t beg, and don’t regret what you gave. In the end, most connections are just that—an encounter along the way.

People who care will feel the weight of it; those who don’t will never be bothered. Adulthood is a long practice in letting go and moving forward. Cherish what you can keep; don’t cling to what won’t stay.

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03.Don’t fear loss; living wholeheartedly is your greatest confidence

After the divorce, Amy had nothing. The comfortable, orderly life she’d known fell apart in a day. But she had two children to raise, so she stood up and went to work.

She sold the furniture, let out the house, and rented two small rooms on the edge of town to get by. Then she learned shorthand and typing and opened a little typing-and-printing shop.

She loved books and people, so she made friends among writers and scholars, and soon they were sending clients her way. She obsessed over clean copy and perfect color. Even after she hired staff, she insisted on proofreading every job herself.

The diligence paid off. Her reputation grew. She worked hard at her business, at her friendships, and at life itself. She didn’t dodge the past; she didn’t flinch when people mentioned Charles. Time did its quiet work, and she let it.

Five years on, Amy had her own office and a thriving business. She sent her son to Cambridge and raised her daughter with the same care—people praised them both. When Charles’s name came up again, she was composed. She even said that if he ever needed help, she’d lend a hand.

A Stoic might put it this way: don’t fear losing; what departs was never truly yours to keep. Let go, and the clouds thin; change your mind, and the weather clears. A good life often means losing and gaining at once. Sometimes no way back is the way through. Only when you’re cornered do you find the nerve to swing the door open and step into the light.

When you stop fearing loss, you stop collecting regrets. Without regret, you can put your whole heart into living. Walk forward boldly; embrace what comes; let time handle the rest.

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A final note

Maria Robinson once said: “Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”

Let life happen. Accept the turns you didn’t plan. If you’re willing, you can begin again—right now.

Money can be earned again. New friends can be made. Another job can be found. Even love can be found again. If you can set down the past, rebuild yourself, and keep showing up, your life is always rebootable.

May we leave the past without clinging, greet the future without anxiety, and keep the present clear of noise. Whatever the first half of your story looked like, may you always have the courage to start the second half well.