For the most part, we’re unimaginative about how we use money. This is true of our own capital. But it’s also true of the way we deploy corporate resources. If you need proof, just look at the cars most of us drive and the consumer merch we accumulate.

Of course, there are some pretty amazing things that you can do with money. But, frequently (it seems), we have trouble figuring them out.

This is an imagination problem. The solution isn’t more technology or choice. Maybe it’s more reflective compassion. Greater aesthetic appreciation for the possibilities of human life. Greater energy geared toward meaningful connectivity.

What would happen if we stopped imagining that money exists to fund our appetites? What would change if we started seeing money as an opportunity for solidarity and acknowledgement?

One thing we might start to see more clearly: money is often at its best when it’s building relationships that matter.

Social impact investing is one exciting new way of using capital more imaginatively. Likewise, foundations often deploy money to build research or medical communities, enable discovery, and scale change to make life better for many. Think of the foundations that sponsor awards to inspire outstanding innovation: the Nobel Prizes, the Templeton Prize, the X-Prizes. Think about Elon Musk devoting his capital from Paypal and Tesla to the audacious adventure of starting a human community on Mars.

And smart money doesn’t need to be big money. Social media makes impact investing open to everyone. Think about Go Fund Me. Or Kickstarter.

There are lots of really creative ways to spend $50,000. Lots of them will mean more to you–and to others–than buying your next car. But most of us will still opt for the car.

Why? Because we’re innately selfish? I’m not sure that gets to the heart of it. Maybe it has more to do with our myopia and lack of creativity.

I know myself better than I know most of the people on Go Fund Me. And I can imagine pretty clearly how the way I spend money on myself will make me feel. But it’s harder to see–or imagine–how my money could impact the lives of those I know less well. So I use capital in ways that don’t matter much for others, don’t go very far to building new relationships (think: gated communities) and–frankly–don’t always mean that much to me.

But there’s a bigger world out there. And money can do some pretty cool things when it becomes a means for making relationships grow.