23. What I'm Worth

 

I feel blessed to be alive.  I always have.  That sentiment holds true whether there is meaning to life, or there isn't.  I can't provide evidence to prove either possibility, but I choose to believe that there is.  Still, I can't be certain.  I hope that's helpful to anyone asking that philosophical question.

'Meaning' confronts the abstract so what is a sensible answer to one person may be gibberish to another.  Beauty, on the other hand, can be found in abundance.  It can be found  in the physical characteristics of our planet and in the emptiness we all carry.  The emptiness that explicitly defines the experience of being Human.  The one that creates art and music and mathematical equations.  The one that produces even more beauty to leave in the world.  

One might argue that the emptiness in an individual Human is where meaning can be found, or created.  It's quite possible that the void in Human Beings is as intentional, and functional, as an eyeball or opposable thumb. It's hard to know, however, since most of us Humans avoid entering the space, and spend most of our lives trying to fill it.

We fill it with activities and obligations and other people and substances that alter the mind.  We fill it with collectibles and gizmos and knick-knacks and novelties.  We fill it with stuff, lots and lots of stuff.  Most of all, we fill it with money.  It makes sense then, that the most common way we give meaning to Life, or measure our self-worth, is by comparing how much money we earn, and how much stuff we can buy with our earnings.

Personally, I avoid those metrics for what are blatantly obvious reasons.  Like making unconventional choices such as being a Stay-At-Home Dad for 12 of my 30 primary earning years, or choosing the least marketable degree my college offered, a degree in English.  Perhaps ironically, those two choices provided deep meaning to my life.  What they failed to do was give me worth.  Last week I received a letter from the Social Security Administration that made sure I knew what it was.  

I'm in the process of applying for Social Security which means I get lots of mail.  I receive all the information the federal government has about me like when I got married and when I got divorced.  Or all the places I've lived, and where I was born.  And the exact amount of money I earned between the age of 18 and 60.  In other words, they told me what my life was worth.  Exactly.  This is what I amount to...

• I made a total of $439,894 during my lifetime.
• From the day I was born through my sophomore year in high school I made $282.
• From my junior year in high school until the day Aaron was born I made $122,336.  I was 33 years old.
• From the day Aaron was born until my divorce I made $140,182.  This includes 13 years as a Stay-At-Home Dad.
• During the period between my arrest and completing my teaching credential I made $12,576.  This includes one full year of student teaching where I was paid nothing.  I used the $90,000 I got from the divorce to get through these three years.
• From the time I got credentialed until my move to Chico I made $221,755.  I got my credential at age 50.
• I landscaped, did "labor for rent" agreements, and received Social Security during this time.

I admit, I'm not very impressive by the numbers.  In my defense, I never tried to be.  As a Landscaper, I never cared about being the biggest or the most known.  I never had a magnet on my truck with the company name or T-shirts with a logo.  I never promoted myself because I always had enough work to keep me busy.

As a Teacher, my pay was structured.  I knew what I'd be paid when I started, and how much my salary would increase each year after.  Nothing I did would change that, not being "Teacher of the Year", not working on weekends, not even being the 'cool' one.  Nothing.  I was fine with that.

In addition, I'm an INFP on the Meyers-Briggs Personality scale.  One of the primary characteristics of this type  is an emphasis on purposeful work over work that's well compensated.  Being a Stay-At-Home Dad had purpose.  So did teaching and coaching.  Even landscaping did.  I loved being able to transform a patch of dirt, or field of weeds, into a beautiful space that offered peace and solace.

What I earned didn't matter.  Contributing to the space I occupied, the one that sustained me, did.  It wasn't a moral choice or decision born from a specific set of values.  It was part of the fabric that made me, the INFP part, the set in stone trait in the foundation of the essence that made me Me.  I had no desire to change that.  I couldn't have if I tried.

I had enough money for what I needed.  Whether I earned four-hundred thousand or four-hundred million I wouldn't have had enough for all that I wanted.  No matter how much money I made I wasn't gonna fix myself or calm myself or get the validation I sought by having or getting more.  In fact, the opposite.  I was most grounded, most balanced, most authentic when I was poor.  I was the best version of myself when I didn't have anything like a sports car, or showcase property, to define me.  Because they didn't.  They don't.  I was at my best, I was most useful to others, when all I could offer was time and ability.  I did that as much as I was able.  I'm worth what I offer, what I give away.