I'm not poor, I simply don't have enough money [to support two households]. I am rich in ways that are more valuable than wealth. Perhaps my discomfort with our shortage of money is rooted in being so rich in other ways. My wife and son are beautiful blessings. Our home is safe and welcoming and conflict-free (save for the occasional temper tantrums...). Love, humor and creative abound in our lives.
It's as if I've learned the difficult part of living and am tripping on the mundane motions that are required to "survive." I am able to intuitively parent my child and help instill pagan and nonviolent values, but I am unprepared to decide whether to buy cheap, less nutritious food to feed us for a week or more expensive vegetables and whole foods. I can attune myself to my body's cycles and am capable of caring for my soul, but I wring my hands over the reality that our life insurance policies will lapse.
The veil of security I so desperately cling to exposes how far from poverty I truly am. The man who panhandles outside my office each day and who sleeps on the Springwater Corridor does not contemplate life insurance premiums. The dozens of homeless folks sleeping on the sidewalk on Burnside do not question whether to get broccoli or 99-cent pasta at the grocery store. That I have the luxury of these dilemmas makes me rich.
The beauty of the present and my many riches drives me to secure the future. I want to insure more todays.
Each day I go to work for a division that supports the affluent and acquires the investment accounts of more millionaires. I spend hours handling account size data, knowing the people I serve aren't burdened by my dilemmas of groceries vs. creditors. Do I want their wealth? No, but I do want their ability to insure the future.
When I release my fear the only shoes that fit and that I like are my own. So I'll continue to walk, carrying all my riches with me as each day like today becomes the future.
No comments:
Post a Comment