Money and Material Desire

Is it wrong to want material things? I spend so much of my time searching for the emptiness that makes stuff possible, the space between thoughts. The space between desire. And then a red Corvette drives by. Yes, I am a car fanatic and since I saw my first Corvette when I was kid, I’ve been in love. I know, you might think I’m a fancy person, and while their is beauty in those “fancy” things they don’t compare to the refined sex of a sports car. Yes, I said it. Sex. Thousands upon thousands of pieces, large and small, singing together in a symphony of power.

I could go on, but by now you probably already think I’m crazy =)

So here’s my dilemma. How can I have passion for both nothingness, and somethingness? Like the search for a unified theory of everything I struggle to come to terms with material obsessions because they require money. Money requires my time and my time is something I don’t want to part with. And yet, when that red Corvette growled, my heart rate rose and I felt both passion and pain. The pain of course, because I can’t have one. To be more honest, I’m not willing to do what it takes to have one.

What bothers me more though, is that half the people who own their dream cars (or houses, jewelry or whatever material possession they covet) probably were not willing to do what it took to get it either. Fortune shone down on them, and the money flowed easy. But you know what bothers me even more than that? I’m bothered that it bothers me. It’s not fair for me to assume how someone makes their money, and many have certainly worked hard for it. More importantly, fawning over what others have and what you don’t is a certain path to misery.

But so is fighting your feelings, your thoughts, your present moment. What is…. is. You CAN do something today to change tomorrow, but you CAN’T do something yesterday to change today. And as far as the present moment goes, it already is. To say no to it, to say no to your thoughts, to say no to your passions and desires, is exhausting. And all of our time which is so important tick-tocks away into the void.

So the answer I think is to want both. To want nothing, and to want something, and just be okay with wanting. If I can have both, it’ll make me happy. But if I can have only one, I need to know for certain which one I want more. And since I’d rather have time over money, I chose nothing. Well, not absolutely nothing. But not a red Corvette either. Perhaps one day I’ll make enough money online to buy my dream car, and when I do it will be on my own terms. I won’t do it working at a job, even if I could. Nope. The only way I’ll submit to money and material desire is on my own terms.

And my terms are certain. I won’t live with regret. I won’t spend my time with people who bring me down. I won’t work a job that makes me unhappy. Those things will most certainly occur, but when they do I’ll do what I need to fix them. To move on with my life the way I want, with the people I want. And sitting on a park bench with nothing will make me happier than sitting at desk surrounded by people who I don’t like and having something. Figuratively speaking that is. My daughters must eat, and they must have the things they need in life. And don’t think I won’t work hard. I just won’t get lost chasing Corvettes.

It all sounds so wonderful, doesn’t it. This is the beauty of writing, pouring your thoughts out on a page and having them reflected back in the form of words. Learning about yourself as you go. Because as strong as I think I sound, I know tomorrow, or the day after, I’ll be walking contently enjoying the sun on my skin, the breath of air that fills my lungs and a I’ll be distracted by another car… or something I lust after, and all my contentedness and good intention will be lost.

And that okay.


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