Storm Clouds In the Sangres
Greed is the absence of care.
Zadie Byrd and I took a short overnight trip to a nearby mountain community earlier this week to meet our trainer and support her in learning to be a calmer canine. It was our first trip away in over a year, and in our short 30 hours away I experienced a wide spectrum of care (and lack thereof) that has me reflecting on how our culture and the economy we support have made greed a part of our unconscious standard operating procedure as we navigate life’s choices.
Before you react with your ‘I’m not greedy!’, as I did when the Muse started me on this exploration, take a breath, open your heart and mind. The Muse didn’t take me on the path of blame, rather invited me to simply consider choices I make around what I purchase and where, where my nest egg is invested, and the like and to look at the bigger picture beyond my individual choices.
Now back to that triggering word: greed (pretty charged, eh?). Merriam-Webster defines greed as a selfish and excessive desire for more of something (such as money) than is needed (emphasis mine and the Muse’s). I’m guessing that no one reading would define themselves as greedy. Heck, I don’t define myself that way. And yet, I how often do I want more than what I need? How frequently do my purchases and other choices I make? More importantly, what is the impact of my choices on the greater whole of which I am a part? How often do my choices consider only the ‘bottom line’?
Take for example my quest to find the ‘best rate’ at a hotel in the area we visited. Good for my ‘bottom line’, but how does my choice impact the ability of hotel management to pay its service staff a reasonable wage … reasonable enough to afford living in a community where real estate values are soaring?
I share this example from an experience at the hotel which demonstrated to me a lack of care on the part of management in fully cleaning and preparing our rooms for occupancy. I’ll spare you the details, but in part the situation was a result of being understaffed because there isn’t a supply of affordable housing available to service workers in the community. Although the manager apologized, he also expressed the attitude that ‘if you don’t like, leave and I’ll rent the room for full price’. It was a disheartening experience reflecting, to me, a lack of care.
In looking more deeply, beyond the moment and my disappointment, I thought about my own role as a bargain hunter, looking for a deal on that which I purchase. I thought about how investing in real estate solely for financial gain undermines community. The Muse and I won’t pick on folks who buy a house and convert to overnight lodging because they can make a lot more money than renting longer term to a community member – service workers, educators, others on whom quality of life depends. Yet such choices are squeezing communities throughout these Colorado mountains and beyond. They’re made with care predominately around money and/or our own personal comfort (not that these are not important – they are!) but without care for people or the planet…
Like the other end of the spectrum of care we experienced from our trainer (providing healthy dog treats from companies with sustainable practices and sharing that info so that we too have the resources) and from a small local eatery that sources much of their food locally and did an exceptional job of cleaning each table (and all the chairs!) after each party departed and the next arrived.
This week I invite you to notice where you witness and experience care or a lack thereof. Join me in considering the choices you make. Did your bargain jeans come from a source that exploits labor and disregards its environmental impact? Examining such choices is rich territory for creating a fundamental shift to a culture of care not just for profit, but also for people and our planetary home.
Breaking for a Healthy Treat!