How Much?
As the civilized world wobbles off its axis, we start to see patterns reflect off our whirling society like the sparkles of a disco ball that had never quite shone on us this way before. New lights catch our attention.
With the coronavirus and BLM protests in America, we see two major conflicts brewing between the interests of humanity and the interests of wealth. It is complex of course, as the very economic systems that allow us to build vaccines are the ones we need to halt to stop the spread of the virus. The freedom some have and others want is built on a set of rules that has played interests and people against each other for generations.
Woven into the heart of everything in our groaning, teetering machine of capitalism is a question; what is the real goal of piling up more and more money?
Beyond a certain point of reasonable provision (and a bit of diversion and comfort), any attempt to amass wealth or store up things and money and stuff is an affirmation that, on some subterranean level, you believe in a static universe where things stay as you want them. It means somewhere inside you probably believe stacked stones stay where you put them and things you have conquered or achieved remain as they were the day you celebrated your victory.
The only problem with this attitude is the world doesn’t work this way. Stones fall down, memories of victory fade. Lessons of history are lost. More than that, the world itself, and all things upon it are always changing.
The ultimate lesson of life is that we don’t get to claim the permanence our economy has taught us to yearn for. Everything changes and shifts. Even the most enduring monument to wealth and power is a bit of a fiction. Even the rock we build our fortresses on will eventually roll back under another tectonic plate or wash away at last into the sea.
The ultimate underlying state of the universe, and of this very earth itself, is fluidity. Even the mountains we see are on their journey from prominence through nothingness and into solidity again. From limestone through the oblivion of rivers and back into sandstone. Into the darkness of the earth and then back into the sun again millennia from now.
And we too are on our way from prominence through oblivion into something new … whatever that is going to be.
It all makes the piling up of stones or coins or cars seem a little silly beyond a point. Perhaps it is no wonder that as wealth and power increase, the vices and distortions of perspective that fuel cruelty, isolation, fear and dominance so often grow larger.
We cannot hope to fight the rhythm of life, of seasons, of death and rebirth. We must listen to this rhythm carefully to take our chances when they come to stand in the light of love and wonder that passes over our lives from time to time. It is hard to hear this rhythm, to feel this flow, when we are alone, locked away in the counting room building a little house of static hopes, our private house of cards.
