What’s it worth to ya? Eh?

You can’t pay me enough… and yet I was always paid enough.

This showed up the other day in one of my feeds:

Let’s just let this sit in our psyches, and our hearts, for a bit.

I’m afraid to ask you if you “get” it. I trust you do.

And yet….

I’m embarrassed that I forget this at times. Um…a lot of times. Embarrassed because I know it’s true, but I fall too often for a belief most of us believe as truth (lower-case T intended). I could be forgiven for my embarrassment though, because everything, EVERYTHING in our culture, points us to the Truth (capital T intended now!) that this sentence is meant to highlight. In neon if it could. And it should.

A personal aside… for context.

For the second time in the life of my family, of our marriage, Kristin and I are a single wage household. When we first married, we both were gainfully employed and so brought our two wages into a solitary, joint account. When we first began our family, we made the RIGHT decision to have Kristin be a stay-at-home mom and nanny while I continued to teach. I am positive money could not have bought everything our family acquired during those rich times as a single-wage household. Once the kids reached school age, Kristin rejoined the workforce. As we were when we first got married, we became, again, a two-wage home. And that lasted for close to two decades. Until we decided to have Dad join our home and I resigned as an educator. Until, really, my Dad died last March.

And for the first time since my very first allowance—um…salary, I guess; my parents never gave us allowances—I am no longer a wage-earner. Technically, and because I haven’t formally retired (code for not withdrawing from my pension, retirement funds, or social security), I’m unemployed. I’m “not doing anything.”

In living this way currently, I’ve uncovered what could be felt as an uncomfortable tension. Brought upon myself from cultural expectations, for sure; brought upon myself, ultimately, by myself. I don’t like that this tension exists.

Because it’s all fake.

In these times of my current self, a time in which I’m in-between “jobs” that earn me a salary, I’ve wondered recently about the meaning of wealth, about the compulsion and obsession with “doing” and “earning.” And I’ve wondered about the value of just “Being.”

“So what do you do for a living?”

“How are you making money?”

“What are you doing with all your time now?”

“Just what ARE you doing, Kert?”

Our culture of “do more, get more, earn more, spend more, buy more, then do it all again, but with more,” rewards money. Rather, rewards the acquisition of money. Actually, rewards the BELIEF that money, money, money, is purpose. The belief that money, “more money,” is the whole point of it all. As if THAT is what you’re supposed to DO. As if THAT is the whole point of the “gotta go to work now” endeavor. As if THAT’s the meaning of life.

“Net Worth?” “Net Value?” Just who deserves our admiration?

Look at who in our world monopolizes fame, who seems to garner the most and loudest attention, the deepest influence, the widest fandom, the glitziest of celebrity, the popular attention—our admiration(?) or gifting of power, of control. Then look at their bank accounts, their “net worth.” Chances are, their bank accounts and stock holdings don’t look like ours. Hell, they don’t look like ours “all combined!” (There’s a reason they are called “The .1%’ers”.)

It goes deeper.

It was said long ago that to see what a culture values, look at the monuments they build.

Long ago, that would have meant you’d kneel in the great cathedrals of the world like St. Peter’s Basilica or Westminster Abbey; you’d gaze at The Pyramids, The Temple of Artemis, The Parthenon, Chichen Itza, Stonehenge, The Taj Mahal, and Machu Pichu; you’d enter grand museums and glorious libraries. You’d even visit Abraham Lincoln at his Memorial, and hear the ghost of Washington at his Monument.

Chichen Itza. Photo by Filip Gielda on Unsplash

Now? Well, after we celebrate the French for their current effort to re-build Notre-Dame de Paris, using materials and craftsmanship as close to the original craftsmen who first crafted it, we come to a Now of a different time.

Now we fork over hundreds, to billionaire owners, in order to drink a $19 beer while we watch two football teams (made up of multi-millionaire players), play a GAME in multi-billion dollar stadiums that corporations fork over hundreds of millions, on a yearly lease, to buy the right to put their name in neon on the outside.

One of our newest Cathedrals—in Los Angeles. “The City of Angels.” Yeah, no irony there.

Don’t get me started on whom we make out to be our gods now—or rather, who would have us consider THEMSELVES to be among the gods.

I digress, but not really.

With whomever comes to mind when you think of the VIPs of the world, aka “the famous and powerful,” it is WE who bear the responsibility for it all—because ultimately WE decide what we value by where we place our attention. We’ve become faithful stewards of the values our culture holds as values—which is obvious because of how deep we are down this rabbit hole of superficiality and inauthenticity; by the ungodly (literally and figuratively) esteem we place upon the Musks, the Gates’, the Bezos’, the Trumps, the Zuckerbergs, the Buffets, the Kochs, the Murdochs, the Soros’, the Cubans; and even the Tom Cruises, Michael Jordans, Patrick Mahomes’, and Shohei Ohtanis (google him if you must), of our world.

The truth of it is, despite the strong pull of culture and capitalism, we don’t have to buy into any of it.

“Some people are so poor, all they have is money.”

For WAY too many of that kind of poor among us (as confirmed by how they use, and what they buy with, their money; partnered with their lack of humble philanthropy, and the dearth of their low-key, or better, anonymous charitable giving), all they value, is money. All they want is to come out on top of all transactions; all they want to know is what’s in it for them—and then they want others to notice. It’s almost enough to feel sorry for them. Almost. (“That poor guy, all he has is money.”)

And like I said, I embarrass myself sometimes; because I’m a participant in our culture too. Then, I’m ashamed. Then, I’m prompted to act toward a different belief—a change of mind and heart.

What Matters? And Why?

Because I’ve also learned; and I continue to learn. Life’s too important and short to forget that the things that matter most in life should have, placed upon them, the honor of our highest values: life-giving landscapes/nature, quality nourishment (of all types), clean and ample water, safe shelter and sanctuary, family, relationship, experiences, peace, joy, art, music, movement, time—Truth, Beauty, Love—even sorrow, grief, and death. Nothing that a single person could lay a price upon. Life’s too transient and fickle to believe all means lead to money as our ends. A life of meaning, the highest life we could lead in service to our fellow beings, sees money as a means (or tool) toward transcendent ends—ends that, many of which, have no value precisely because they are priceless.

I can laugh, now, at the absurdity of it all—distanced as I am from the proverbial “rat-race” of “do-ism.” I’m “in” on the joke! And no, it’s not lost on me that I do live a privileged life such that I don’t have many of the life-threatening circumstances that so many among us are forced into living—extreme poverty, homelessness, hunger, chronic illness, etc., etc., etc. Each of these manifesting not only physically among so many of our human family, but also emotionally and spiritually (think: spiritual poverty, emotional hunger, etc.). Though all signs in our culture want to point us to its manufactured truth narrative, its adopted values—that money equates to influence which equates to power—they are, in actual reality, false equivalencies. Money is not True power, nor True influence, nor True wealth, nor worthy of our True admiration (capital T’s, all, intended). It is only the poorest among us who believe money can do all that.

And I don’t believe it anymore. Which means I’ve had to get real clear on what my Truths are.

Lesson #1; Lesson #2:

Earning a life is not about earning a living. My Dad, as my Elder, was one of my teachers of this life Truism. My Dad never had a lot of money—not even in the land he farmed since much of it was leased—but although he’d never use these words himself, he’d say he was among the most wealthy of all men, I’m certain of it. And I can tell you why: he lived a life of humble dignity; valued hard work; provided well for a family whom he loved dearly, and who loved him equally as dearly in return; gave us a comfortable life of opportunity; engaged in work he loved; and created for himself the only identity he ever wanted—he didn’t just farm, he was a Farmer. Earning a life is not about earning a living. My Dad earned a helluva Life.

I’m taking this year to study “A Course in Miracles.” Three hundred sixty-five lessons in total; one lesson per day. January 1 was Lesson #1; and Lesson #1, coupled with Lesson #2, drives home the exact point of all this folly.

Lesson #1: Nothing I see [in this room, on this street, from this window, in this neighborhood, in my wallet, etc.], means anything.

Lesson #2: I have given everything I see [in this room, on this street, from this window, in this neighborhood, in my wallet, etc.] all the meaning that it has for me.

Grace

There is a line in a song by Don Henley that resonates with me deeply whenever my mind tricks me into thinking I’m living in a time of lack:

We determine for ourselves, value, by the meaning we give to a thing, or to a place, or to a person. Or to another whatever. Even to paper with pictures of presidents on them. The things in and of themselves, have absolutely no meaning—no value. One person’s Hope Diamond is another person’s paperweight or doorstop.

And we are given an abundance, each of us, that too often flashes right past us without our recognizing its inherent, potential value: the smile and greeting from the checkout woman, the laughter from a baby in a stroller rolling by, the hands being held tightly by an elderly couple on a park bench, the teens with trash bags picking up garbage along a walking path; a bird’s song, the shade from a tree on a hot day, the sound of running water into a pond or of the surf against the shore, the quiet dignity of a deer and its fawn ambling silently past.

Each a priceless source of abundance and wealth that only requires from us a mindful awareness of their occurrence, and then the grace of gratitude. And then, if we are wise and generous of heart, the realization of how little it takes from us to make another person wealthy by the giving of simple joys, of ordinary attention made extraordinary by the meaning with which we offer it.

Dying Now to BE…Me!

I have an answer, now, to the questions others might ask; in response to the tension even I have felt, from myself, of what I’m currently DOING.

Since you aren’t a principal anymore, what exactly are you doing now Kert?

Answer: I’m busy BEING. And trying to get better at it. There, I have all the wealth I need.

Looking back upon my chosen career as a public school educator, I’ve earned the opportunity to BE. That past life, along with my wife Kristin, has made this current life possible—and I am eternally grateful. What I should have realized way back then, was that I could have been more of a Being even amidst all that past Doing.

Choices, priorities, and values.

Look, it’s no secret…if you want to end a career with a ton of money in the bank, then for certain don’t become a teacher. I was a teacher—so, by default, I must not have valued money as my be all/end all. Besides, I wasn’t raised that way by my father. But like my father, we might be ending up in a similar place. Kristin and I live well—just not with millions in the bank. I don’t think we’d want that as the only outcome or reason for having worked up to now (even though I’ll say with a straight face, if we found the winning Lotto ticket on the sidewalk, you’d be damned sure we’d be cashing that sucker in ourselves!).

But here’s a final word about teaching, and teachers, from a guy who devoted himself in service to children, parents, and colleagues, for thirty-three years: Each teacher DOES hold a secret—well, at least those of us who “get it.” Those of us who “get” the only reason one should become a teacher in the first place. It’s a trade secret—regarding wealth. Every single teacher who has the skill, courage, and dedication to stand up in front of a classroom of learners, has, then, a potential, unlimited source of wealth, at their fingertips. All that is needed to realize that wealth, is understanding:

And yes, we should still pay teachers more.

I’m sorry if you were never a teacher. I truly am. Although you can still effect others deeply and benevolently regardless of your current work or non-work status, by default, you will never be wealthier than me. To understand the extent of my wealth fully, something even I could never dream of knowing, you’d have to ask my kids—the thousands I was privileged to effect for a short, all too brief, period of their lives, that I have to trust made a difference for them over the course of their entire lives. We teachers, you see, touch and effect the future. It’s a heavy, solemn, moral obligation that comes with the teaching territory. If you doubt that, plumb the depths of your memory for a beloved teacher from your life. You didn’t realize it, but they were likely the wealthiest person in the world. YOU made them so.

“Some people are so poor, all they have is money.”

Yeah, I am fortunate to have so much more than money.

Live, Laugh, and Love,

~ k

Always and Ubuntu.

🙏🏼

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On My Wedding Day
~ Don Henley

For my wedding, I will dress in black
And never again will I look back
Ah, my dark angels we must part
For I've made a sanctuary of my heart

To want what I have 
To take what I'm given, with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day

For my wedding, I don't want violins
Or sentimental songs about thick and thin
I want a moment of silence and a moment of prayer
For the love we'll need to make it in the world out there

To want what I have
To take what I'm given, with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day

I dream, and my dreams are all glory and light
That's what I've wanted for my life
And if it hasn't always been that way
Well, I can dream and I can pray
On my wedding day

So what makes us any different from all the others
Who have tried and failed before us
Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all
But I pray we're the lucky ones; I pray we never fall

To want what we have
To take what we're given, with grace
For these things I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day

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