Merit.
After several years, I have finally admitted that maintaining a paid LJ account is simply wasting money. This is how my world changes: quietly, with sighs and exhalations. $20 is a meaningful amount, and I think in comparative value--that could be dinner, or jeans on sale, or cat food, or the manicure I'm not sure I merit, or even saved for the next vacation. I'm sure it was a blessing that I did not worry so about money as a child, but I was also not prepared for the concept of tight budgeting. As I learn this skill, though, it warps under the weight of my shadow*, becoming complicated by the concept of priority.
Budgeting seems to be a logical process: spend on what is important and not on what is not. And we are discerning animals capable of sorting from almost the very start, so it stands to reason that this budgeting should be a path anyone can learn to walk. Determining what is important should be easy, too--just start at the bottom of your favorite needs pyramid. (It is here that I have mentioned the magic word, should, and where if I knew better, I would frown and walk away.)
I may be sick to the brim at being surrounded by the consumption of material goods (and oho, is it bad here in California during the winter holidays), but I am also not immune to the desire to have. For me, the urges to nest, to insulate myself from the overwhelming world outside, and to remember through meaningful objects are the largest roadblocks to a Zen I don't know if I'll ever obtain. There is a peace in letting go, I'm told, but I can't imagine it.
And so I am left with a struggle between logic and the inner crow, distracted by the shiny things and aware that glitter doesn't necessarily mean gold, and this is the way with most humans. So we prioritize, ticking off the needs and then the wants on our list until the numbers reach zero. I can do the list-making and I can do the calculating, but my problem is more fundamental than any of this: the question of what I deserve.
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* A common euphemism is "black dog," but in my case, I cannot believe a dog is an appropriate symbol. Dogs are far too kind, warm-blooded, and independent.
Budgeting seems to be a logical process: spend on what is important and not on what is not. And we are discerning animals capable of sorting from almost the very start, so it stands to reason that this budgeting should be a path anyone can learn to walk. Determining what is important should be easy, too--just start at the bottom of your favorite needs pyramid. (It is here that I have mentioned the magic word, should, and where if I knew better, I would frown and walk away.)
I may be sick to the brim at being surrounded by the consumption of material goods (and oho, is it bad here in California during the winter holidays), but I am also not immune to the desire to have. For me, the urges to nest, to insulate myself from the overwhelming world outside, and to remember through meaningful objects are the largest roadblocks to a Zen I don't know if I'll ever obtain. There is a peace in letting go, I'm told, but I can't imagine it.
And so I am left with a struggle between logic and the inner crow, distracted by the shiny things and aware that glitter doesn't necessarily mean gold, and this is the way with most humans. So we prioritize, ticking off the needs and then the wants on our list until the numbers reach zero. I can do the list-making and I can do the calculating, but my problem is more fundamental than any of this: the question of what I deserve.
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* A common euphemism is "black dog," but in my case, I cannot believe a dog is an appropriate symbol. Dogs are far too kind, warm-blooded, and independent.