We often sell our future as casually as we sell our past. False assumptions give us confidence in the hearty harvest of tomorrow. Inflated worth, unfortunately, follows the best of life’s gifts and the most tender of your fellow man’s charity.
Thoreau said, of a house built in debt, “I wonder that the floor does not give way under the visitor while he is admiring the gewgaws upon the mantelpiece, and let him through into the cellar, to some solid and honest though earthy foundation.” If we are to be truly honest with ourselves, we know how fragile the flooring made of future labor can be.
I try not to be fooled by the promise of comfort given by a man who sells me my own future. Nor should I be tricked by the man who buys my today with the promise of a happier tomorrow. This for that, and that for this, until: tomorrow is sold to pay for today, today is sold for a brighter tomorrow, and yesterday is long gone at the suggestion of a more perfect now. Who sold us this time machine and called it anything short of a mad house?
If it is happiness we are trying to buy, my thoughts, lately, are this: happiness is a road best sought through humanity. If it is peace we are trying to buy, my thoughts, lately, are this: peace is a gift best earned through meditated practice. If you think that money is to blame for your woes, my thoughts, lately, are this: do not put your life into money, and money will not put its life into you.