Liz and I still do our monthly Barefoot Date Night, even though our financial life is pretty well sorted.

While we still talk about our investments and keep track of our buckets, we also talk about more meaningful stuff — like how we can spend our time and our money in a way that makes us proud.

If you follow the Barefoot Steps, you'll eventually become wealthy. I have absolutely no doubt about it. It'll work for you, just as it has for the people you've read about in this book — and for the thousands of Barefooters who write to me every year.

However, for some people, the only thing they gain from money is the fear of losing it. They get so caught up in the game, they never work out if they're winning. They never ask ‘How much is enough?', and they continue spending their time in jobs they don't like, to buy ever more expensive things to impress people they don't like.

So on this last Barefoot Date Night (well, it's the last one in this book, though your own should continue on), you're going to look at your legacy.

Leave your phone at home.

Unplug from the face-suck of the glowing screen.

For one evening, you'll stop gawking at other people and think about your life.

How will you be remembered?

At your funeral, they won't say:

‘He drove a C-Class Mercedes … the limited edition … the one with the quilted trim.'

No, they'll talk about the good things you did, and the difference you made to those you loved.

Don't get me wrong, it doesn't need to be Bill Gates grand. You don't need to have a building named after you, or have cured poverty, or hold any world records.

When my grandfather died, three generations of his family held hands and stood around his grave. Then they played (what has become my favourite song of all time) ‘The Man in the Picture' by The Bobkatz:

That man in the picture, he didn't fly through the air, he's no superhero, he's sure no millionaire. He didn't walk on the moon, he didn't save the world today … but he's my hero anyway. A kind and gentle man, the best friend I ever had, he's my hero … he's my dad.

What do you want to be remembered for? What do you stand for?

These are the meaty things for your Barefoot Date Night.

Give your money

Chennupati Jagadish is one of Australia's leading scientists. Yet he grew up dirt poor in a small village in southern India. In fact, he might never have gone to high school if it weren't for a kind teacher who invited him to live with his family and study.

Now, there are plenty of people who get to the top of the tree only to forget the kind people who helped them along.

Not Chennupati.

He's responsible for helping nearly 1000 women in the third world pull themselves out of poverty, despite being on an academic's wage.

How?

Via an outfit called kiva.org, which he found out about through being a Barefooter.

Kiva (which means ‘unity' in Swahili) is an award-winning, not-for-profit website that allows you to make micro-loans (starting at $25) directly to some of the world's poorest entrepreneurs. They, in turn, use the money to start a business, and in the process often pull themselves (and their families) out of poverty.

Kiva provides regular updates on how the entrepreneurs are progressing (an impressive 98.7 per cent of loans are repaid in full). And it's in these updates that you get to form a connection with the people you're helping, and you get to see how $25 changes someone's life.

The Barefoot Investor has its own Kiva lending team, which you can join. So far we've lent out over $500 000 and changed thousands of lives! You can join Chennupati and thousands of others by typing this address into your search bar: www.kiva.org/team/thebarefootinvestor.

Give your time and your money

‘What am I going to do now?' said Helen Brown, a stay-at-home mum, after her final son left the nest.

Helen isn't a wealthy woman. She lives in Kyabram, in country Victoria, and her husband runs a small signwriting business.

In 2007 they had their first ever trip overseas — to Uganda. She was struck by the poverty of the people in a village they saw called Lubanda. The following year, she saved up and took two of her sons to the village to meet the women.

The trip was a turning point for Helen and the people of Lubanda. When she returned home she started HUG (Help Us Grow) as a not-for-profit organisation and began fundraising to help the village community help themselves.

Helen is not religious; she just believes passionately in a hand up rather than a handout, and she doesn't draw a wage from HUG. ‘Every last cent goes to the community,' she says.

Small chickens?

Hardly.

Since 2008, HUG has built a community centre for the village where the locals come together and learn new skills, as well as a secondary school and a medical clinic that serves a population of around 50 000.

How's that for a legacy?

‘Why do you do it?' I asked her.

‘Because it fills me with absolute joy.'