I woke up this morning thinking about "riches".
It really struck me that for almost as long as there have been people, there have been people willing to KILL one another - to get shiney stones. Rocks. Pieces of compressed carbon.
And chunks of metal to hold them in so they can be worn and shown off to others.
I know where the thought line came from - I'm reading a book on Amelia Earhart, and it talks a lot about the social status of her family, and that of her husband. Social status, to me, is much like "riches" - people seeking desperately for something that in the end really has no lasting value.
I am not a poor person. I am not wealthy, but I am not poor. I own (with the bank) my own house, I own a car, I have food and clothing enough, and sufficient fabric to fuel my quilting hobby. I am warm in the winter, and hot in the summer, although I have enough fans to make the hot bearable. I have more books than some libraries.
Sure, there are things I'd like, goals I want to meet, places I'd like to visit... but none of these include the purchase and hoarding of shineys. I guess maybe I'm strange, but shineys don't have the allure for me. I like to look at them, but I do not yearn to own them.
114 of 625
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Rich? Me? Never happen.
I have a recurring nightmare that I will one day get run over by a bus and still have £5 in my pocket that I haven't enjoyed spending!
I've never cared about riches, as others see them.
I live in a dump but it's free and clear. Oh, never mind at least I always have more money than I need.
Post a Comment