Everyone steps back from their life on occasion to do an accounting. We step back to assess where we are in relation to where we hoped to be, and make adjustments if needed. To do that, we must have a tool, or tools, to provide the measurement.
In our culture there are, arguably, two tools used more than any other. First, we measure by what we own, our possessions. We compare what we have to what others have in both quality and quantity. We also take note of what we don’t have. Second, we use social standing. We consider the position we hold, and those we’ve held, to help gauge popularity, power, and status. The more we have of each of those two yardsticks, the better. A person with an abundance of both, or either, is generally considered to have lived a successful life.
Of course, there are other tools to measure a life, but possessions and social standing are the royal couple. They're King and Queen. Disagree? Consider that in America extreme wealth is often all that’s needed to make one a "celebrity". How many famous people are, in fact, famous primarily because they're rich? Consider this list:
“Snooki” Polizzi (Jersey Shore)
Paris Hilton
The Kardashians
Jeff Bezos
Bill Gates
Kevin Federline (Brittney Spears's ex-husband)
Nicole Richie (adopted daughter of Lionel Richie)
Mark Cuban (serial entrepreneur)
Brody Jenner (son of Kaitlin Jenner)
You get the picture. . .
Wealth often also means having the newest, or the most toys. A tweet or Facebook post by the toys' owner is gospel to some. A more apt example for the common folks is the practice of posting photos of their dinner on Facebook which, in my opinion, has nothing to do with the actual meal. If it did, we'd be seeing the occasional plate of fish sticks, or a grilled cheese sandwich, or a TV dinner, but we don't. It's about what they're eating, the extravagance of it. When someone posts a picture of their dinner they want you to know they're eating better than you are. They want you to measure your meal against theirs, and they want you to know theirs is better. That's it.
In our culture, we've identified specific items or chronological milestones generally acquired, or reached, within a certain age range. Although they're not taught in a public forum most people know what they are. For example, there is a certain age range delegated to the purchase of your first real car, your first home, or your second one. There's another range of years that anticipates an extravagant purchase, like a trip around the world, or to the country of one's ancestors, and so on.
Rarely are these milestone acquisitions obtained or performed privately. Nor is the knowledge of their occurrences contained within a small, intimate group. And of course, they can't be. These are the things that measure us in comparison to others, and no one will know how you measure up unless you announce it. Well, you would, but that's not good enough. We want others to know we've arrived. So, if I may, I'm announcing my arrival now.
A recent assessment of my own life revealed this about me, and where I stand concerning my peers. I have acquired, and have in my possession, the following number of individual items, approximately (drum roll, please . . .)
4 pairs of shoes (work boots, canvas slip-ons, thongs, and rubber galoshes)
10 pairs of pants
8 pairs of shorts
30 t-shirts
12 sweaters
4 jackets
1 drawer full of socks and undies
0 ties
0 suits
0 keys
5 beanies
1 donated trailer (refurbished)
2 bikes
30 books
1 TV
1 stereo receiver
4 speakers
Lots of garden tools
1 cell phone
1 box of assorted kitchen utensils
1 of each of the following: mini-fridge, microwave, toaster oven, George Foreman grill, electric frying pan, blender, vacuum, air conditioner, space heater, crock pot, toaster
1 Chromebook
1 external hard drive
14 contacts on my cell phone (4 are family, 2 are women I used to date but haven’t spoken to for years, 3 are government 800 numbers, and 1 is for my voicemail. The rest are work-related.)
3 sons
2 backpacks
1 jack knife
1 sleeping bag
1 fan
1 box of colored pens and pencils and other random desk items
1 leather wall hanging shaped into the likeness of a Native American warrior
2 black and white decorative photos, 1 color
4 candles
2 dreamcatchers
4 pillows
1 shelf full of sheets and blankets
3 towels
That's literally it. Es todo. Dat is het. C'est tout. Das ist es. Dis dit. That's. It.
I haven't amounted to much. I don't have many possessions. I have even less status. No one calls to say hello, or check-in, and that's okay because neither do I. I live most days in a kind of isolation I don't completely understand, but accept. If it bothered me I'd change it, but it doesn't, so I don't.
I know that who I am and what I have doesn't warrant much attention. That's okay, too. The heart that has preserved me, guided me, and enlightened me is worn out. It's broken in the way that any heart its age is, I suppose. The effusive hope I once had has languished, or been forgotten altogether. The only way for things to get better would require the things that are already bad to get worse, first. The only way for things to get 'better' is the decision that they need to be. They don't. I'm at peace with who I am. I'm content with what I have. I'm grateful that wherever I am, I got here.
For me, it isn't about what I acquire. It isn't about the attention I draw or what I possess. It's about what I let go of. I no longer feel I need to prove anything to anyone, and that includes myself. I don't have a need to be accepted. I've lost interest in what others say or think about me, as well. Because who I am right now, at this moment, is enough. Because what I have is all I need. Because what I want is often wanted for the wrong reason. I'm authentic, or as close to authentic as I've ever been, or will be. That's how I measure myself.
