Meditations on Poverty [Part 1: Concerning the burden of wealth on the soul]

This has absolutely nothing to do with development and everything to do with how much I am enjoying my little bare room.

As I stated previously, living with hardly anything but a bit of clothing, some books, and a backpack is an incredibly freeing experience. Material possessions really are a burden that you can only begin to comprehend when either that weight is suddenly lifted off you, or you are conscious of the weight because it is crushing you.

At first I considered that it was simply an issue of “too much”. But perhaps there is not a critical mass when it comes to possessions. I think there is, but I also think there is more to the situation than that. I think material objects have weight which make it difficult to compare their influence in the same way that in economics you make comparisons using a products market value instead of simple units to avoid equating a computer to a box of pens.

My first stab at this issue has lead me to divide material possessions into three categories: something you absentmindedly own [accidental possessions], something extremely important for life [integral possessions], and something you are attached too [possessions]. I have no problem asserting that material objects are a burden, but what about my rucksack, my books, the moleskine journal I wrote this in?

Accidental possessions are just things you pick up along the way. You are not really worried about losing them and the only real burden they are is trying to figure out where the devil to put them. You would just get rid of them if you weren’t worried you would need them at some point later down the road. Which means that an accidental possession would essential become, temporarily, an integral possession. Oh my…

For the sensing people reading this [as opposed to the intuitive people on the myers-briggs personality type] I will provide some examples of what I mean. Cups are, I think, a pretty much accidental possession. I don’t need a whole set of glasses, but I have them for when guests come over [at which point they become integral]. I’m not worried if they break.

Integral possessions are different for everyone [which is where the trouble I think is, we collect possessions mistaking them for integral items]. By and large I would say an integral item is the bare necessities [which is different for everyone] as well as a few non-essential items which genuinely enhance life [these are definitely different for everyone]. Tea is an example of something I would consider integral despite being non-essential. A couple different varieties of loose-leaf tea, plus a smattering of tea bags for one loose-leaf is inconvenient, does not burden me at all [that is unless I have so much tea that it reaches that critical mass and thereby becomes a pain and I have trouble drinking tea because I have to choose between too many options. Based on what I learned from “The Tipping Point” I would expect that keeping the options limited to about 6 or 7 or – if you wanted to push it – 8 for best effect] and has considerable add-value to my enjoyment of life and general merriment and gaiety and whatnot. Music also would qualify, in my mind, as integral. But it similar suffers from a critical mass point. To illustrate this, when I was in high school and had a CD player instead of an iPod, I would bring 5 CDs [in their cases] with me to school. At some point the inherent inefficiency lead me to use a CD-wallet which could hold 24 CDs. I had the hardest time choosing something out of that wallet to listen to. Just too much choice! I couldn’t find anything I wanted. I went back to those 5 CDs because I was enjoyed at least 4 out of 5 of them that day. Freedom in scarcity. Crazy.

Now on to the really heavy ones… possessions! These are the real burdens, even in small amounts [perhaps they just have a really small critical mass or tipping point]. These are the things you experience grasping for. Things you are attached to. Those items that keep you up at night because you left it in the Civil Design Studio and if someone takes it you will be devastated [an iPod might it, despite the music being integral, the technology is not – you can live quite happily without an iPod]. These are the items you wear yourself out working too many hours so you can afford to pay for them. You become a slave to these items. Like the car you bought to drive to work, and you drive it to work to pay for the car [that’s from a Metric song]. Hopefully you get what I mean.

So therein lies the wealth of moderate poverty, or perhaps it would be better to call it moderate scarcity [this, like I said, has nothing to do with the extreme poverty we talk about in EWB]. The trick I think is to maintain this moderate scarcity - in which your integral items are kept below their critical mass, your possessions are as limited as possible, and your accidental items are minimized by simply improvisation instead of purchasing – consciously [I can never remember if I mean conscious or conscience – judge for yourself give the context] despite accumulation of wealth. That wealth can go on to be used for other purposes. There is always something more that wealth can be put towards, so why frit it away on burdens for yourself?

So that was just some thoughts. Welcome to the inside of my head. I would very much love to have a wild discussion about all this that lasts into the wee hours of the night. Instead of replacing something that is fine for something that is ideal [such as an older iPod for the latest one with all the fancy improvements], put that wealth to better use by have a crazy night of discussion at a dinner party that goes so late we end up at the Naam at 3am for a second dinner.

Oh and while I am on the topic of nights of incredible discussions at dinner parties, and to continue the confession of major personal flaws: I am a selfish person. I never was good at sharing candy as a child [part of that might be due to the outrageous Algeo sweet tooth]. Right here in Zambia I am inclined to have three cups of tea for myself made from the satchel of milk I bought instead of having one cup of tea and sharing the milk [I bought it after all…]. There is a part of me that shouts, in response to this idea, that the single cup of tea is much more enjoyable than 3 hoarded cups, but there is that really annoying part of me that isn’t convinced. I suspect that selfish part is tied in somehow with the ego. Too bad a war is being raged against it. In line with all this thought on poverty and the issue of the ego I’ve decided to experiment with a philosophy I am calling [in my head – but if you haven’t noticed anything in my head is effectively transferred to this blog] poverty of charity or poverty of generosity. What do you think? I probably should call it scarcity instead of poverty as it isn’t real poverty in the sense that I see all around me here in Zambia. To explain first I have to back up. I love hosting. I am hardly happier than when my house is full of people [I am sure I inherited this from watching my mother be such an excellent host while I grew up]. Because of that joy I try to create a house in which people want to come over. To do that I try to keep the house stocked with stuff [food and drinks] so that I can accommodate guests –forever afraid of being a bad host, but also wanting to hold back so that I personally will never be without. Damned selfishness. So, the plan is to share until I have nothing to share, and being okay with having nothing to share, even if it means I don’t get to enjoy a reserved cup of tea, cappuccino, or candy because enjoying something with friends [or even strangers who can become friends] is far more grand [or so that other part of me tells me]. That might mean I can’t offer as much when I am hosting, but it also means I will have a budget less out of control and allow the opportunity for other people to step up and contribute [why would they before if the house was already stocked?].