Often, I'm tempted by a desire for glamor. This strange need to own a grand, stately, and rather ridiculous home. Then we add a car with chauffer. Perhaps serving staff, or a private jet. At least flying first class (man, the notion of leg-room sounds grand). Yet, it sounds rather empty. When I read such pieces as this one, I am reminded of what I enjoy. The modest pleasures of friends, wine, art. These represent the best I see in life. Though I occasionally get tormented by the fact my life is rather free of grand luxuries, I take solace in the glories within my life. Lest I forget these blessings, I remind myself of those who have so little. These things I take for granted, that seem rather humble to me, actually are grand luxuries to so many who walk this earth with me. That fact humbles me the most.
Driving along in Kirkland , home of the modern yuppie, I’m passed by a new Mercedes. Lovely, silver, shiny, new, bling-bling; a part of me loaded with insecurity twinges while I purr along in my Toyota. Why? How come this is a metric of my self-esteem? Am I being unfair to myself, being upset by this train of thought and it’s influence? Consider, please, how much this viewpoint is drilled into us. Look at how often this imagery gets pushed into our faces, and how long that’s been going on. It shouldn’t surprise me, really, that I sometimes feel this way. Though my conscious values oppose this, the lingering thread of this programming has threads into the depths psyche.
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