Dear Diary,
What value does money bring into one’s life? How much of one’s unhappiness (whatever shape it may take) can be compensated by the regular flow of (sufficient) money?
They say money cannot buy happiness. But money can buy better health care (or any health care in certain parts of the world). Money can buy a house in a safe area of town. Money can buy education for oneself and their offspring. It can supply quality food on the table. Money can pay the bills, courtesy of which one can have running water to address basic human needs, like hygiene, or access to electricity and gas to keep that house warm. Money cannot buy happiness but what is can do is take care of everything else, in the absence of which happiness is less likely.
Assuming most people share this simple sentiment, how much of the other stuff – the less tangible stuff, for example, mental wellbeing, making an effort with family and friends or indulging in a hobby, connecting with nature and the spiritual side of ourselves – are we willing to sacrifice in the name of money? How much of it are we willingly letting slip through our fingers in the name of maintaining a quality of life we may have created for ourselves but are tired of maintaining anymore or questioning its status as our one true calling? What happens when we no longer have the capacity or desire to ‘grind’ but, in equal measures, we are unable to part with its conveniences? I do not have any answers; I am only in possession of questions.
That I can provide no answers remains the case but a random observation if I may: my musings sound a bit like Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. Physiological needs occupy the very base, followed by safety, love and belonging, esteem whereas self-actualisation rests at the very top. I first heard about Maslow at university donkey’s years ago and have been reminded of him and his theory as part of training at work, its propositions can apply wider than academic and corporate contexts. In fact, it is easy to see how the theory offers an explanation of what a human requires in order of importance for their survival (not necessarily what that human may want), and what subsequent behavioural patterns they display, depending on where they are on that pyramid at any given moment.
In the context of money and reward, direct employees of a company in particular see a cyclical modus operandi at play. It moves through the motions and trepidations of annual salary uplifts and bonuses (we shall not discuss whether either are an effective means of retaining existing talent, or whether performance reviews are accurate in assessing how competent staff are). Inevitably, these curved question marks must enter the conscience of the majority. Or is it just me?
The Week’s Round-Up
A trip to London for a day and a half I had to participate in on Thursday and Friday. It was productive – I have noticed that the levels of public transport usage have returned to the pre-Covid era and, whenever I travel, trains are heavily reserved and bursting at the seams – but it was simultaneously draining. The sun was shining on Thursday – never not a bonus in my opinion, as can be evidenced by my moan about the state of the weather last week – but it was spitting on my walk to the station late Friday morning.
Walking is powerful even when it is done in the midst of an enormous city, for I have put my finger on something I have been considering for a while. Being in London, I end up reminiscing. Reminiscing about the days when I used to live there (albeit as a poor Post Grad). I wish to retun for good. I wish to be a part of the total sum of millions of other people, each and every one of them dedicated to their own personal mission; each and every one of them eager to accomplish their own goals and reach those big dreams; each and every one of them standing on their own feet as an individual (invisible as sometimes they can be) but also being a clog in a well-oiled machine.
What I miss the most about the Big Smoke is the availability, on one’s doorstep, of art galleries with paintings and sculptures to admire, museums to learn from, new and second-hand bookshops to grown one’s own library from, writers’ readings at said bookshops to glean inspiration from, all sorts of other events to dip one’s toes in. I am not at liberty to do much of this at home, because I am in a rural area of England. However, returning to the arguments (a strong word…) made at the beginning of this entry, life in London is ridiculously expensive (and I hear wages do not cater for it…).
Then, I return up north and am in awe of the natural habitat that surrounds me, and the calmness of life. And I am happy. Perhaps, those with means have it figured out: often, they own a house in the city and a house in the countryside, hopping in between as they please. The rest of us are stuck having to choose.
Leading me nicely into how I skipped Writing Club this week. The second train delivered me at my home station just before 2pm, and I would have had to sprint home (c. fifteen minutes under normal circumstances, but I was dragging a suitcase!), sorted the dogs out and rushed back out asap before 2:30pm. Plus, I had calls in the afternoon and, in the end, I was on the phone from 2:20pm to about 6:40pm…
On Saturday, I ventured to the magnificent library. I had not been for ages – life happened and, the last few Saturdays I had tried working there, the Wi Fi was not even connecting. But they had fixed the issue, it would seem, and I was glad to be back in a space where I could put my head down and concentrate.
On a final note, the longer days are now palpable. A week to endure and the clocks spring!
A circle of life. Ever so delightful, for it means even longer days. Ever so scary, for it means I am crawling towards my next birthday.
Another year taken from this earthly life; another year closer to the forever life.
The Little Things
A colleague, a more senior colleague indeed, confiding in you. Sharing some of their struggles (both at work and in their personal life) with you, without reservation or fear.
Lending a hand to a person on the train (she was elderly) to move a suitcase, and slot hers on the rack.
Turns out that money CAN buy happiness - < https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/say-money-cant-buy-happiness-daniel-martin-eckhart/?trackingId=mDQGWeO2R3qhycNyLnQ6wg%3D%3D I wrote about it in that LinkedIn article and it focuses on research (that led to a TED Talk) about just that. Essentially, money can buy happiness IF you give it to others.