We work toward goals that are not our own. The new car that is only needed because the commercial says we must trade in the "old" one after three years. The house that has to be a little bigger than the neighbor's, even though only two people will live in it. The guitar that we only know four chords for so that we can brag about "playing".
We tie ourselves down with notes and mortgages and credit card debt and insurance plans and service contracts. And when we dream of travel, it becomes just that; a dream. We have 19 more months on the cell phone contract, 9 more months on the insurance, 62 payments on the credit cards and 28 years on the mortgage. And despite shoveling out thousands of dollars each month for years, we don't own anything.
If we stick with it long enough, we'll own the car for six months before trading it in for the yoke of another note.
We fight and bleed and sacrifice and die for our freedom only to willingly throw it away as we shackle ourselves to decades of a career that we're sure we can't live without but we're not sure why.
From all your herds, a cup or two of milk,
From all your granaries, a loaf of bread,
In all your palace, only half a bed,
Can man use more? And do you own the rest?
~Ancient Sanskrit Poem
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I stumbled across your blog while looking for the Sanskrit poem you posted.
I'm glad I did! I found your posts to be very insigntful and thoughtful.
I'm looking forward to reading more as I am in a similar situation and place in my life.
Good luck on your trip! I hope it is everything you wish it to be and more!
Post a Comment