Last night after spending a few hours at the gallery I got groceries at City Market and then caught the RFTA bus (for the first time) back to the condo. I’ve always had a good sense of direction and that was a great thing last night because getting lost in the dark in sub-zero temps with three bags of groceries could have landed me a Darwin Award.
I have to note that the customers at the grocery store were pretty surly. People kept blatantly running into me and shoving me aside even when there was plenty of room! I don’t know if it was that we were all different nationalities and had as many varying approaches for waiting in line or tolerating crowds, or if it was because we were all wearing snow gear that made us clumsy, or if half of these linebackers were half drunk/stoned, but it was pretty frustrating.
I spent a quiet night at the condo with some soup and my cat, being the hellion that I am. Woke up early this morning at 8am and cleaned my room/finished unpacking, then leafed through the “Aspen” magazine that I had picked up. It was full of articles and advertisements geared at the extremely rich. I browsed the lists of restaurants, feeling a little intimidated and wondering if I could afford any of them.
Only one day here and I do feel a little like Tiny Tim through the window staring at the turkey. All of the stores here seem boutiquey, for vacationers, and high-priced… though to be fair I haven’t been in many yet.
Reading the Aspen magazine has sent me into a contemplative jag this morning on large wealth and if I want it, or if I think I could attain it. Part of me feels like making money is such a default goal for so many people, but I hate to admit it isn’t always at the forefront of my mind… much evidenced by my bank statements. I have conflicting beliefs too… one that I could easily make money if I put in more effort and the other whispering that I haven’t accomplished it yet. At this point in my life success still holds mysteries for me.
There is the thought of “Oh, I don’t really need luxery”, especially when I sincerely know that I am better off than 99.9% of the world. However, I’d really like feel that I’m more robustly standing on my own two feet. I wish I could buy tools I want…. whatever computer I want, that Marc Jacobs dress, that organic drink, without obsessing about the chain in the couch cusions. Having more money would free up some creativity- wouldn’t it? It would give me more power, certainly?
Dr. Wayne Dyer once said “You’ll never be poor enough to make anyone else rich”…. but can you be rich enough to make others poor? Does being rich come at the expense of someone else? Or are you doing everyone a favor by not only being a drag on resources, but having the wealth to spend and create companies and new jobs?
I do not know why it feels so complex to me. But, if I get grounded and look at my situation, I need to make money… it’s necessary for survival regardless of guilt complexes.
A girl my age or younger came into the gallery last night and looked at the Chagalls. “I love Chagalls” she swooned, “I have that one already” she said, pointing to a limited edition original lithograph. It blows my mind that a girl that young owns artwork like that. Is it disgusting? Is it inspring? I guess it simply is as it is…
And yet, if that rich girl had bought some paintings from me, I in turn would have more money to go out and spend on what I love, and I guess the world would be more the way I’d like it to be… my mind’s footprint would be larger. Every dollar you spend is a vote for the way you want the world to be.
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