The Valley Below

by Christopher Cunningham

(this essay orginally appeared in a slightly different form at Upright)

An overcast day here in the ugly south; a cool wind blows, barely stirring the stagnant grey film that is suspended, like a body from a hangman's noose, in the thick moist air. There is the promise of storms and the last whirring buzz of insects before the winter is upon them, and an uneasy feeling of weight upon the shoulders, a feeling of pressure from an unseen source. These days everything feels like a sign of trouble, even the trembling of curled brown leaves on trembling tree limbs. Each conversation leads to contested definitions from flawed sources, each idea is twisted by ideology and agenda, each thought barely and rarely tested for truth. As the autumn wind blows and the dark clouds gather every narrowing of the eyes is a call to war.

These days we argue over the color of the sky even when there is no real argument, no room for debate. Some of us have lost the ability to discern opinion from truth, fact from slanted fiction. We are presented with a choice between a healthy meal and a shit sandwich and some remain “undecided.” But there is still some truth in the world, even as we are awash in both difficult shades of grey and staggering waves of gleefully willful ignorance; honest answers do still exist, actual tangible realities that cannot be debated, cannot be altered to fit a predetermined purpose. There remains the seeking nature of the human animal, desperate as long as his existence to find meaning, to discover joy, to investigate and explore the mysteries of life and understand our purpose as conscious, sentient beings on a glowing blue rock in the middle of a desolate black void. There is the desire for the bond between parent and child, the connection between man and woman, the coming together of good friends that can be called love, this selfless joining of humanity for something greater than themselves, something intangible.

There is, and has been, much that drives us as humans. There is much that divides and separates us as well. Most of us want to "make a mark" of some kind, and if we don't, we are satisfied with merely passing thru, hopefully trying to do no real harm as we go (though there are always exceptions to anything). We all define that "mark" differently; some of us seek a measure of enlightenment from our time here, a better understanding of ourselves and our place in a cold and uncaring universe, a greater depth of empathy and compassion with our fellow human beings and some hope for the future of all things. Some of us hope to create great works of art that elucidate the complexities of the human condition, art that explores our suffering natures and our inextinguishable endurance in the face of our inevitable mortality, art that sets out into the desert with no water, confident in an inexplicable outpouring of creativity from the ether. Some of us hope to raise families full of good people who contribute to society: tradesmen, craftsmen, teachers, leaders, police officers, firefighters, hard working men and women who make up the teeming legions that keep civilization functioning, who perform the necessary tasks to keep everyone safe, secure, educated and as happy as is possible.

But today, we find ourselves at a curious place, a place where many of us have a stranger goal in mind: to get rich. Middle class folks who think that dollars are the final arbiter of success, who consistently vote against their own interests, strive for some unattainable future wonderland of wealth and contentment. It is an outgrowth of a society that values the glittering surface more than the murky depths, a world where material gains are the measure of one’s worth; where money equals freedom, and not having any equals servitude in a variety of ways (the time clock, the credit card companies, impossible health insurance premiums, cheap unhealthy but affordable fast food, etc.). Some folks want to be rich, thinking an obscenity of wealth will bring with it peace, security and happiness. But it won’t. It never has. It never will.

I agree with the premise that in the world as we find it, we do have to have money and we do have to pay our bills. But none of the situations above (joy, family, love, the search for real meaning and especially the desperate need for a connection between one human and another) require an obscenity of wealth, and most of them require nothing from money short of the basic necessities like food and shelter, money that will be spent in the service of either empty, pre-disintegrated, planned-obsolescence consumerism or the generation of still more income for the bank account and for the inheritance of children who will one day not know what it means to make a living. And what do we all want out of life anyway? Happiness? Safety? Comfort? What? None of these can be purchased, even safety. Real safety is as much an illusion as sawing a woman in half. There is no avoiding death, no matter how hard we try, no matter the money we acquire, no matter the fortified walls we construct. There is nothing for it. All you are ever doing is postponing the inevitable (and why? to make more money?). So safety's out. And comfort? Sure you can buy a hundred soft couches but you can only sit on one at a time. Anything else is for the benefit of other people, anything large scale is so others can envy your acquisitions, your things, your stuff, which feeds the shallow ego that seeks only MORE. That thinking may satisfy in the short term, you can gloat about your "success," feel good about "making it,” but what happens when your wife dies? What happens when your kid gets leukemia? What happens when your livelihood is ripped from you by forces you can't control with any amount of money? Where do you go for that comfort, that safety, that happiness? Do you turn to your dollars, your investments or your property? Will that bring any solace when your heart is broken? Will a life spent in service to the concept of money, bowing at the high altar of "free market capitalism" (a fucking lie as our recent socialist takeover of private banks and so forth) with its Mafioso mentality of “hey, it’s just business” used to excuse even the most disturbing of personal transgressions against each other, be fulfilling if you've never experienced love? If you've ever sat in silence and marveled at the mystery and impossibility of each sunrise, vastly different from the one which preceded it and totally unlike the new dawn to follow, how do you compare the gain of another dollar in the totality of your life to such an experience of actually living?

For those unafraid of death via the religion gamble, you must be aware that money has NOTHING to do with why you are unafraid; you have a spiritual confidence in something greater than you, something that is outside the influence of men, and of human trivialities. Like money. You are confident that your salvation isn’t in the hands of the private sector, and isn’t for sale or barter. You have faith in an idea that exists outside of the inventions of men with worldly desires and fallibilities. Hell, and money, throughout the history of organized religion, has been a corrupting, not unifying, force that makes it possible to control the message of a religion. It doesn’t matter what I think about the afterlife, and it doesn’t make a difference to my philosophy or yours whether or not we have a dime between us.

Of course, numerous examples exist in the secular world of the leader/follower/innocent fellow “just-trying-to-get-ahead” being felled by greed and corruption: see ENRON and the screwing of many hardworking Americans for an example. We often forget that the financial landscape of modern capitalism is an invention of investors and bankers who wanted to make a bundle of money by charging interest on loaning same, as well as chopping up our enormous personal debts into saleable packages to leverage into billions and billions. Their goal was to make more money. Further, we find our political lives shaped by the influence of vast sums of money. Look at ol' Tom Delay and the “K Street Project;” a venture full of such luminaries as criminal thug Jack Abramoff, where the world of lobbyists was bent to the will of the Republican party (the dominant party with all the control), neatly subverting the electoral will of the American People, by padding all positions with party loyalists and cronies, a revolving door of private sector cash infusions, illegal backroom deals and CEOs cum Senators cum Lobbyists crafting laws designed to maintain the status quo/financial power structure. Look at John McCain's entire fucking campaign staff. And what, pray tell, in our Brave New World is the measure of power? Yes indeed: money. If you have enough, you can even disrupt the proper course of our so-called democracy, rendering those who lack wealth powerless, without influence over the workings of their very lives, screaming in a deafening silence. Capitalism, and the “free market economy,” a clearly irresponsible misnomer, are designed to have winners and losers; it’s the nature of the beast.

So what have I expended this much space to say? Just this: there are measures of a life well lived, a life spent fully alive in service to the very mystery of our humanity, a life aware of the fragility of our perch here spinning around a ball of fire in the darkness. There are ways to recline on our death beds and be assured of that good life lived, and none of them include being "rich;" no one will think, "boy I wish I could have got one dollar more" or "I'm glad I spent every moment at my job" and you can bet if that is how they think, they lost a lot more than they gained. The old saw "you can't take it with you" is a cliche for a reason. But what you can take with you up to the very edge of the great unknown are the experiences: the memories, the loves that burned into your soul, the pain of loss, that hand you hold as you pass away from the material into the deep mystery of what comes after. These intangibles will be more real than any house, any yacht, any limo, more real than anything made and sold by men.

I know that money can do good works in the world, just as it can be bent to the will of the savage. It's a tool that reflects its holder. That's not the point. The point is, being rich isn't any kind of measure of a life well lived. Money isn’t the measure of one’s success. Money has nothing to do with how kind a person is, how well one’s lived. It's simply no "goal" to have. Your goals may include family, happiness, safety, peace, long life, and so forth but again, money cannot be what defines your time here. We do what we must to pay our bills and keep ourselves alive, but is the pursuit of large sums of such a meaningless concept as money a worthwhile goal? I mean, under the right circumstances, wouldn't the barter of goods and services among dedicated craftspeople with specialties other societal members lack be just as effective for maintaining a community? Surely not on the worldwide scale of humanity today, but hypothetically, wouldn't you be able to eat and clothe yourself? Couldn’t you take care of your family, build a shelter, etc.? Wouldn’t it benefit everyone to be good at their jobs because those jobs kept everyone alive and healthy? I mean, it all comes down to the necessities in the end.

Money is easy; ask any poker player. They'll tell you that money is just a stack of colored clay chips worth nothing. It is the life away from the table that is hard, and also the most rewarding.