Friday, March 20, 2015
Riches Like Fading Flowers
Although I've doubts about whether it's an appropriate or wise time for her personal development at this point for such kind of possession, I shared her joy. It's simply given to her. To my mind, it tells more about the giver rather than about my daughter.
Then I noticed, after only a few days of elation driving her "rich" pajero, she began to leave it in our house garage area most days of the week when she goes to office. She may have a variety of reasons. Among these in my surmising, I wondered about my daughter's instant "rich" driving experience. Is the newness or pleasure of acquiring a prized possession predictably wearing off that quickly?
In countless lives since time immemorial, the quest for fulfillment through material riches is common. In this quest, psychological, emotional, and spiritual wounds happen, especially when you get attached or addicted to material things. We know people who exchange their honor or dignity or souls for money. Prostitutes sell their bodies. Politicians corrupt themselves. Addicts steal or kill to acquire their drugs of choice. Men and women commit crimes, infidelity, or self-inflicted harm in the name of mammon.
As in all earthly things, riches are like fading flowers. They never last. They're meant only to be enjoyed temporarily along with us. Experience evidences that they can't really deliver what our hearts are truly longing for. The brilliant Steve Jobs, founder of Apple Inc. and one of the richest men who ever lived, died in his mid-50s. Shortly prior to his death, he addressed young graduates in a prestigious university. Steve said:
"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important."
Do you know what is truly important in life? We all live with passing moments. We all age. We all die. In Steve Job's case, his fading flower, the brevity of life, influenced the choices he made at the end of his journey.