My best friend tells me that her reaction to my commitment wasn’t revulsion (see Gift Cards, Best Friends, and Buddhism, 8/24/10). It was incomprehension. I laugh and accept her revision. She goes on to comment that she thinks I have tapped into something that is nagging those of us who have achieved a measure of success. She ventures that maybe we just all feel a little too guilty.
I think about this for awhile. Do I feel guilty? And if I do, is it tied to success? Is that fueling my "no-buy" commitment? Success is really hard to define and measure, except in this instance, I am pretty sure she’s talking about money. I live in a metropolitan area where in order to live a middle-class life in an apartment larger than a studio (unless you want multiple roommates) in a neighborhood where you aren’t afraid to walk the 3, 4, 5 blocks from the train/subway home, a six-figure household income is almost requisite. Add kids and a car and clothing to the mix and even that level of income is inadequate.
I have lived with my daughter in attics and basements (both illegal) where the electricity was shared with the legal tenants. We had to plan our mornings around who was using the hairdryer on which floor and when. Our ability to become legal at ground level where we each finally had our own rooms (mine was the size of a walk-in closet) was pure luck – a friend of a friend who offered reasonable rent in return for a good tenant.
My last apartment in the city was owned by a man who was too lazy to raise the rent (or didn’t want to see me cry) for the entire ten years I lived there. This was very unusual good fortune in this city of greed – I know that and I’m grateful. I saved with the fervor of one obsessed. When I finally accumulated enough for a down payment on a co-op apartment, I settled for a smaller place than I would have liked because I couldn't afford more. If anything, I’m angry about that – I could tolerate a little more success quite easily. I still work extra jobs to have what I have and do what I do. I have not reached the zenith of what I would consider financial success. Not even close.
Now there is something to be said about guilt relative to having and accumulating if it’s always all about oneself. Two for me, none for you. I don’t know about this. I’ve been paying it forward ever since my angel friend gave me those five twenties in the bottom of a bag (see How Much Is Enough, 8/20/10), and I got my own nose above the water level. Although I usually stop short at saying someone “deserves” anything (I’ll probably explain that sometime), I can’t tolerate the idea of people of any age (but especially if they are under 18 or over 60) who are hungry and/or cold, children without a holiday gift, or veterans without employment. I have, I give. One for me, one for you. Even when I didn’t have, I gave. None for me, one for you. If that’s guilt, it’s highly sublimated, where it should be. Here, I’ll give you all my “stuff.”
But something else is driving this train.
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