Monay mo-nay!
Since about the middle of September, Elijah and I have been part of a play group (beyond the impromtu one we have each day at the park). This group meets every Monday afternoon at various parks in the area (there–I’ve already said “park” now twice–okay thrice–in one paragraph, so you can only imagine how much more it gets said in our household these days). Elijah seems to enjoy the other kids, and I’m enjoying getting to know the moms. They’re easy to connect with, friendly, good conversationalists–and this despite the challenges posed to our talks by wobbling toddlers and play structures.
Two weeks ago we joined a spin-off of this group. A couple of the moms with experience in preschool education decided to spearhead what’s turned into our own little preschool, complete with planned educational activities, songs, snacktime, etc. And the cost? Free! Having no extra money for things like this these days, I feel like I’ve struck gold.
Last week was our first week attending, and our first time seeing the home in which the group gathered. It’s in downtown Palo Alto, and if that doesn’t mean anything to you, let’s just say small shacks there probably cost more than a million these days. This particular one was of a more…expansive size.
So I was silenced, to be honest, while walking to the door. The woman who owns it was the same warm, easy-going self that I’ve gotten to know and enjoy at the parks, and everyone inside seemed well at ease. But I found myself internally goggle-eyed. I’ve never been up close to so much wealth.
This week my experience was similar. We met at a mansion in the hills of Los Altos. The rooms in which the kids were free to roam could each hold most of our apartment. The toys available for play made our collection look like one you might fit, in its entirety, into one of those plastic eggs you buy from the gumball machines. Elijah went nuts for the first hour, running everywhere, playing with everyone and everything, and then finally stopped in the middle of it all, overwhelmed. He turned a few slow circles, taking in all the options, and then started to cry.
I left there quiet.
Wealth is such a relative thing. By most of the world’s standards–indeed, much of our own country’s–I’m more than rich. At times I have felt awkward, since moving here, to see our home become more posh than ever it’s been before this. Our couches, lamps, lamp table, area rugs, curtains, artwork, dining set–all of this is less than two years old. This, after having furnished our place ten years ago with fifty bucks, spent at a handful of yardsales.
But our standard of living compared with those of many in our playgroup is pittance. From toys to vacations to clothes to dwelling to the food we buy to eat, there are significant differences.
What do I do with these disparities? And the ones between me and those who have far less? What does it mean that some kids will always have everything money can buy? What are their advantages? What are mine?
I want to say everything is equal; everyone comes from different places, has such different stories, that to put a moral value on any standard of living–high or low–is unfair. We’re just people, right? Doing what we know to do?
But something inside of me says that’s not the route I want to take. Not exactly. It’s the part of me that knows globalization means knowledge, at least on most of our peripheries, of what consumerism is doing to our planet, of the growing gap between haves and have nots, of the interconnectedness of people on both sides of borders and jailbars and oceans and tracks. It takes all of us to make our systems what they are. We’re all to be lauded and blamed.
In light of this, however, ascetisism isn’t a route I want to take either. Or guilt, or self-righteous indignation. Any of these sucks life clear out of me, and no doubt from those within my reach. I’m interested in something more…inspiring to fill my thoughts about bank.
I’m inspired by people who are wealthy in things like compassion, mindfulness, involvement in public life, at whatever level. I’m inspired by people who have learned to be content with little, and not because they’re obsessed with levels of consumption, or looking down noses on those with much, but because contentment and gratitude are things they genuinely want to have. By people who are curious, people filled with wonder, people awake to the interconnectedness of us all. People who feel privileged to know you, and you, and you, no matter who you are, how much you own, or how pleasing you are to look at. I think this sense of privilege goes along with being inherently curious. And jolly.
My list could go on, but it seems like everything on it doesn’t have to be correlated with a particular income bracket. My guess is that wealth and poverty and the entire middle class all carry inherent challenges for cultivating the kind of wealth for which I long. Life does.
But this, too, feels like a conversation cop-out.
I want to think more on this topic, and reflect on it here. But I’d love to hear what any of you think. How do you feel about having what you own? About the amount of money you make, and the challenges and opportunities made available because of it? Have you found a way of sidestepping such questions altogether in pursuit of something better?
November 21st, 2006 at 8:03 pm
Oh I know this struggle all too well. If you go back far enough in my blog, you’ll see some of the posts I wrote about simplifying our lives (my husband I made some fairly drastic changes over the past few years), getting rid of some of the clutter/materialism in our lives, and grappling with the disparity I have seen first hand in my trip to Africa. It’s all been good for us, but at the same time, I also struggle with the fact that most of the parents of my daughters’ friends live in the kinds of houses you describe, and then I feel myself impacted by the pressure to “keep up”. It’s all so complicated. I have no easy answers. But I do know that the simplification in our lives has brought some measure of freedom, and that’s a good thing.
November 22nd, 2006 at 4:29 am
Yes, there is disparity and struggle, not just outside of our homes and hearts but inside as well. My husband and I don’t always agree on this issue of simplicity and how to raise our children in our wealthy community. But we both want to learn and change and see the world with greater compassion and figure out ways to live our lives in such a way as to share our blessings with others. One quote we like, but don’t often live up to, is this: We must learn to live simply so that others can simply live. I confess to inconsistency in this area, but I am seeking out ways to simplify, to reduce consumerism in my own life, and to teach my children to do the same. Blessings to you as you raise your child and your own tender soul. Giving thanks for your wise words and challenging questions, Gail
November 24th, 2006 at 2:20 pm
What an interesting post.
Just at a time when I have been particularly challenged to be embracing those ‘that have’.
This has been an interesting journey, considering most of those around me seem to harbour some kind of resentment or preconcieved ideas about the wealthy! (I am not implying that you do!)
But in my heart I seem to understand that life is quite a levelling place, and we all have, and we all have not. Therefore do not need to be threatened by each other, but rather accepting.
It seems to me that the wealthy do not all have wrong values, and those that embrace poverty do not either, and yet both have wrong ones.
it is putting those two worlds together
and loving the rich in the same way that one loves the poor.
Plus embracing the good values that the wealthy have
and embracing the good values that those who are poverty stricken have.
I grew up where poverty sits - in Kenya and the Sudan
and I live now in the west
where it has it’s corners
but not like I knew in my foundational years
I also have lived in my adult years in the company of the wealthy
and they are sometimes as poor as the poor
and the poor have been as rich as the rich…..
does this make sense? it does to me……
I think that you should enjoy where you are at and let your values be shaped by both worlds….and that of
your little child
November 25th, 2006 at 12:17 pm
Heather, Gail, Rebecca–thank you for your words. Rebecca, yes, what you say makes all kinds of sense. I’m looking forward to writing another post on this topic soon, and talking more about the points you raise. Just got back last night from a Thanksgiving trip. An enjoyable and not-so-full-of-sleep couple days. This weary head is off for a nap while the little one sleeps…
Much love to you all.
November 25th, 2006 at 3:30 pm
I feel like gratitude for what is is the most fertile ground for all of us to receive what we truly need. My ritual is to focus on appreciating, as much as possible, at all times, what I have. Any time I catch myself in a have-not or I-want thought pattern, I stop and say to myself, ‘I’m wealthy! I’m wealthy! I’m wealthy!”
November 25th, 2006 at 10:22 pm
I had great examples in my parents - when I was in junior high we sold our house and moved to a smaller one. I guess our house payments increased drastically, and my parents wanted more flexibility in their budget to travel and to enjoy life. I never had all the name brands my peers had, but we were surrounded by people all the time - throwing parties, eating out with friends, visiting our family at the lake. I have many memories of things we DID together, more than the things we HAD.
November 27th, 2006 at 4:04 pm
In your oh-so-ample free time, I recommend that you read Life on Two Levels by Josephine Duveneck. In part, because she lived in Palo Alto. And also because she was a woman who came from great wealth - it’s Josephine Whitney Duveneck - as in the Whitney Museum, etc. and she was at the forefront of most of the social justice movements in her lifetime in the Bay Area - racial integration especially. She was a moving force in the founding of the American Friends Service Committee on the West Coast, she worked for better relations with Native Americans, she championed progressive education and founded The Peninsula School, and her home was an early stop in the American Hostel movement and hosted the first integrated summer camp in the US, I think. Her home is now called Hidden Villa - still a hostel and environmental education place. Oh and she raised four kids. I’m not doing her justice here. But it’s a good book about her day to day life and her religious seeking.
More about my personal struggles with this issue soon.
November 28th, 2006 at 3:12 pm
Sage, that’s awesome! I’m going to practice that ritual now too.
Jen, that’s exactly the kind of thing I’ve been contemplating. What if no matter how much money beyond enough for the basics (yeah, “basics” are a hard thing to define…) my household ends up bringing in, we choose to live a notch or more below that amount materially? What would this free us to do? I love what it sounds like this freed your family up to enjoy.
Robin, this Josephine sounds like a truly amazing person. Yet another example of how wealth is not synonymous with greed or selfishness. Thanks for another great recommendation. I look forward to hearing whatever else you have to share on the topic.
September 9th, 2007 at 7:41 am
Dear Kristin,
I would like to use the quote, “We must learn to live simply so that others can simply live”. To whom should I attribute it? Need to know as soon as possible for a printed program I am preparing.
Thank you,
Connie Young
Fresno
September 9th, 2007 at 3:37 pm
Hi Connie,
I’m sorry I can’t be of help with that quote! I wonder if Gail would be the person to ask? If you click over to her site, you could probably contact her there to ask. Best of luck!
Kristin