Value

"What we must decide is how we are valuable rather than how valuable we are." -- Edgar Z. Friedenberg.

I've thought about this quote for a while and wrestled with the concept long before I stumbled on the quote. Perhaps it is because my earning potential has always been low in a society that assigns great value to that. Perhaps it is because I spent most of a couple of decades raising children and found, despite much language to the contrary, that society doesn't value that at all. Individuals might, society does not. And, perhaps most importantly, it is because I have periodically bought in to society's view of value and under-valued myself. And, given the current economic disaster and ever increasing unemployment, I wonder how many others will find themselves on the low end of society's barometer of worth and how it will affect their view of themselves.

Generally, many of us, seem to assign value to ourselves and our lives based on what we do for work. And the value of that work is frequently based on the amount of money it brings in. As a society, we tend to think in terms of earning potential rather than job satisfaction. And, as a result, many of us spend a large portion of our lives laboring away at something we do not like and frequently hate. We slave away for 50 weeks out of the year so that we can have 2 weeks of vacation where we try to do all the living we cannot allow ourselves to do the rest of the time.

When I was a stay-at-home mother, I keenly felt my financial vulnerability and societal invisibility. Leave it to Beaver not withstanding, staying at home with one's children does not give one stability or respect in our society. Despite the fact that I did much more than "just" housework, it was difficult to feel as though I had done enough to justify my lack of income. And, in my experience at least, all sorts of people think that they are within their rights to express their opinion on what one is doing or not doing. Mothers, in particular, frequently find themselves in no win situations. Not long after my first son was born, I was having lunch with his godmother, who had also just had a baby. I had gone back to work because we couldn't do without my salary. I got keel hauled by just about everyone with an opinion for "leaving my child" to go make money. Coincidentally, my friend, who was staying at home with her son, got blasted for not being out in the workplace pursuing a career. It was a classic case of damned if you do and damned if you don't.

And now I wonder about the millions of people who are losing their jobs and how they will cope with their sense of self-worth in the absence of gainful employment, perhaps even losing their homes. Whether one is on the assembly line or Wall Street, how does one reassign value to their lives when a major focus of that value is removed, especially when those around us focused on it, too? It will not be easy, but, I suspect, it calls for a huge shift in how we think about ourselves and how we respond to each other.

When I was working on my bachelor's degree in philosophy, I was frequently asked "what are you going to do with that?" I know a poet who is frequently the butt of jokes and suggestions that they get "realistic." And we've all heard the jokes about waiters who are really actors. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could refrain from passing judgment and criticism on the honest efforts of others? And wouldn't it be lovelier still, if all of us based our self-worth on a different criteria than occupation and earning potential? But how to go about doing that when the tide all too often flows the opposite way?

So the question is How Am I Valuable? If you make sandwiches for a living and paint gorgeous works of art at home, which one do you think holds the essence of your true worth? If you spend 8 hours a day putting together widgets and every other moment you have cultivating beautiful roses? If you push papers until your mind goes numb from 9 to 5, and then volunteer in a nursing home? If you are completely unemployed, but tell fantastic bedtime stories? If you do anything at all, but manage to have a smile for every human being who passes in front of you?

For me, I've come to realize that, except for my rather skimpy financial situation, that there is very little I would want to change about my life. I find fulfillment in creating things, either physically or with words. I relish the opportunity to be fully present to my friends and those whom I love. I'm a good friend, good mother, good writer and good with my hands. I think and feel deeply. How could I possibly doubt my value?

Security

"There is no such thing as security. There never has been." Germaine Greer.

I've been thinking about this quote for several days. It seems be both bold and, oddly, liberating to me.

We seem to spend our lives chasing after and working for security whether it be financial, emotional or physical. And, while I can certainly understand the desire, I am perplexed by the frantic way in which we pursue it. I have longed for this sort of security for as long as I can remember, but I can't help thinking that we seem to be chasing a will-o-the-wisp.

Certainly, the current economic situation has people very much afraid for their current and future financial security. But my finances were precarious before the recent events began, so I don't think that is what has set my mind to working on this question. Having grown up poor, I intimately know the stress of financial insecurity. We stretched a gallon of milk twice as far using powdered milk, Kraft macaroni and cheese was five boxes for a dollar, and I watched my mother stay up all night sewing so that we would have new clothes to wear. Jobs can disappear in a moment and child support fails to come. As an adult, I traded quite a bit of the rest of my needs in life for the illusion of financial security and, in the end, it simply wasn't worth it.

Emotionally, every last one of us has experienced disappointments and hurts that prove that security is an uncertain commodity there as well. There are exceptions, sometimes a great many of them, but there is never security here either. It begins when your best friend in kindergarten decides she really likes Sally better than you and continues right through to the one you thought was THE ONE, who couldn't be that one for you or anyone else.

Physically, we are vulnerable every second that we breathe. I heard someone once say that from the day of our birth, we begin to die and, no matter how much we would like to pretend otherwise, it is true. Friends and loved ones have been vibrant one minute and dead the next through heart attacks or accidents. Others waste away before our helpless eyes. Natural disasters, diseases and calamities hover at the edges of our existence. And violence, which may not kill our bodies, can steal our spirits in a flash.

So, why do I find this quote both potentially liberating and comforting? In acknowledging the reality of insecurity, I feel that I am opening myself up to more fully appreciate the many positive experiences that I have. By not wrapping myself in bubble wrap and believing myself to be safe and secure, I think it may be better for me to fall into the insecurity. By acknowledging the possibility of loss, I believe I enhance the experiences by feeling more gratitude for the blessings of each and every good thing that comes my way. By insulating ourselves from pain, we can also numb ourselves to joy and that is what I sincerely hope to avoid. I think it may allow fuller expression of our true selves. And, while I will continue to make sure my pantry is stocked, I hope to live more in the blissful moments that present themselves.