Therefore, with regard to the objects which we pursue, and for which we strive with great effort, we should note this truth: either there is nothing desirable in them, or the undesirable is preponderant.
Some objects are superfluous; others are not worth the price we pay for them. But we do not see this clearly, and we regard things as free gifts when they really cost us very dear.
Our stupidity may be clearly proved by the fact that we hold that "buying" refers only to the objects for which we pay cash, and we regard as free gifts the things for which we spend our very selves.
These we should refuse to buy, if we were compelled to give in payment for them our houses or some attractive and profitable estate; but we are eager to attain them at the cost of anxiety, of danger, and of lost honor, personal freedom, and time; so true it is that each man regards nothing as cheaper than himself.
Some objects are superfluous; others are not worth the price we pay for them. But we do not see this clearly, and we regard things as free gifts when they really cost us very dear.
Our stupidity may be clearly proved by the fact that we hold that "buying" refers only to the objects for which we pay cash, and we regard as free gifts the things for which we spend our very selves.
These we should refuse to buy, if we were compelled to give in payment for them our houses or some attractive and profitable estate; but we are eager to attain them at the cost of anxiety, of danger, and of lost honor, personal freedom, and time; so true it is that each man regards nothing as cheaper than himself.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 42
Like a child’s ever-growing Christmas list, I continue to add more and more outside “things” I somehow believe I need for my happiness. Yet if I do manage to acquire them, they become tiresome so very quickly, and I wonder if all the efforts, and the deeper price I end up paying for them on the inside, were really worth it.
Sometimes such trophies are quite useless. At other times they leave me as a far worse person than I was before. They cost too much, and it’s all because I didn’t develop a balanced sense of value.
No, I don’t mean cutting out coupons and keeping an eye out for the sales, though those are indeed admirable ways to be thrifty; I am rather talking about a moral balance sheet, where debits and credits are determined by the giving and receiving of love and respect, not of money.
I tease my wife when she comes home with a new set of cookware, as she insists that she has “saved” a tiny bit of money by spending far too much.
I am equally guilty, however, when I buy ten tins of Dunhill 965 pipe tobacco, on a special sale, for the price of eight.
The ugly fact is that more money went out than came in, and the spoils ended up gathering dust in a closet. She has far more than enough pots and pans. I have far more than enough pipe tobacco. The madness needs to stop!
Whenever I trade a principle for a convenience, it’s much like I am a man who doesn’t know how to balance his checkbook. Perhaps a better analogy would be a man who exchanges in foreign currency, but doesn’t consult the current rate.
I assume where no money has changed hands, I have ended up with a freebie. Oh no! Oh God, no! I may have just sold my soul for a quick fix.
No amount of cash can equal peace of mind. No number of accessories can gain virtue.
Like a child’s ever-growing Christmas list, I continue to add more and more outside “things” I somehow believe I need for my happiness. Yet if I do manage to acquire them, they become tiresome so very quickly, and I wonder if all the efforts, and the deeper price I end up paying for them on the inside, were really worth it.
Sometimes such trophies are quite useless. At other times they leave me as a far worse person than I was before. They cost too much, and it’s all because I didn’t develop a balanced sense of value.
No, I don’t mean cutting out coupons and keeping an eye out for the sales, though those are indeed admirable ways to be thrifty; I am rather talking about a moral balance sheet, where debits and credits are determined by the giving and receiving of love and respect, not of money.
I tease my wife when she comes home with a new set of cookware, as she insists that she has “saved” a tiny bit of money by spending far too much.
I am equally guilty, however, when I buy ten tins of Dunhill 965 pipe tobacco, on a special sale, for the price of eight.
The ugly fact is that more money went out than came in, and the spoils ended up gathering dust in a closet. She has far more than enough pots and pans. I have far more than enough pipe tobacco. The madness needs to stop!
Whenever I trade a principle for a convenience, it’s much like I am a man who doesn’t know how to balance his checkbook. Perhaps a better analogy would be a man who exchanges in foreign currency, but doesn’t consult the current rate.
I assume where no money has changed hands, I have ended up with a freebie. Oh no! Oh God, no! I may have just sold my soul for a quick fix.
No amount of cash can equal peace of mind. No number of accessories can gain virtue.
—Reflection written in 1/2013
((guiltily eyes collection of stuff I've picked up off the curb))
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