For What It's Worth

just thinking out loud, again

original artwork by Kateri Ewing

Have you ever considered what your body is worth? If you sold it off organ by organ, limb by limb? Me neither, until I read about it in Wired Magazine. According to the article, a body could be worth up to $45 million, a figure calculated by the selling of bone marrow, DNA, lungs, kidneys, heart, eyes and blood as well as the rest of the components. Most people don’t have life insurance policies worth more than one million dollars, and that’s on the high end. When we’re talking dollars and cents, a human life seems like it should be worth more than the physical pieces that make up our bodies. But what is a life worth, anyway? How can we possibly put a dollar amount on the depths of wisdom, love, experiences and sensibilities that are contained within a human soul?

The world we live in is full of strange ironies when it comes to worth. The average salary for an educator who is responsible for imparting knowledge to our children is $69,544, at least in the United States. The average salary for a supermodel in New York City, is between $40 and $50 million per year. The average income for a farmer, a person belonging to the group of people responsible for supplying the food that nourishes every single human being on earth? It is between $13,000 and $71,000 per year. And have you ever wondered what the dollar value of a “Like” on Facebook is for a non-profit? The Non-Profit Social Networking Benchmark Report said the average value of a “Like” for non-profits seeking to attract donations, calculated from total revenue received from a supporter over the twelve months after their “Like,” was $214.81. Seems like we are able to quantify just about anything these days, doesn’t it? We are sown into a cultural seed bed where success is so often measured by monetary worth.

Albert Einstein said that instead of trying to become a man of success, become a man of value. I’m not certain I know what that means. It all depends on what lens I’m reading it through. Am I viewing value in monetary terms, or in a person’s worth as being something to hold in esteem and regard for the qualities of good character they possess, the effect they have in bettering the world around them? Knowing what I know about Albert, I’m guessing it’s the latter. The end result of success isn’t nearly as valuable as the day-to-day ingredients of a life well lived.

I have a difficult time with placing a monetary value on things. I’d rather give something away than fear I’m asking too much, or even too little. It’s that feeling that anything that costs only money isn’t worth much in the end, and worth, value, can be apprised simply by how much something is appreciated and loved. This isn’t a very productive approach to understanding the way the world goes 'round, and I’m working on getting more comfortable with asking to be compensated for my skills and my time, but there is always this timid voice whispering in my ear: “How can you ask to be compensated for this? You’d better keep it cheap. Don’t ask too much. Heck, just give it away, then you won’t feel bad.” I don’t even think it is so much a charitable way of thinking, rather than a weakness for not being able to see my own value. It’s also not the most desirable quality to have as a self-employed woman. Why do some people seem so at ease with money, and others as rattled by it as if they had been living in a cave since birth and had never so much as glanced at a penny before? I’ve come to a point where I’m someplace in between, but it’s still my Achilles’ Heel. And yet, I’m grateful that I possess the sensibility to know where a man or woman’s true value lies.

There is a quote that I love by poet and philosopher Criss Jami: “Every job from the heart is, ultimately, of equal value. The nurse injects the syringe; the writer slides the pen; the farmer ploughs the dirt; the comedian draws the laughter. Monetary income is the perfect deceiver of a man's true worth.” I want to believe that if this kind of thinking permeates everything that I do, that the monetary part will become easier for me, a necessary part of survival in the world,  a means of being compensated for a job not only from the heart, but from hard work that produces something of value to another person or persons, something that they are willing to pay for. Why is this so hard? I have no qualms about paying others for a service or an item that I wish to have. Why do I find it so hard to put a price on what I can offer? Perhaps it is just one of my many character flaws. Pieces of me that still need forming and growth. I’m getting a little better at it, but I doubt that it will ever seem natural to me.

I have always believed, and I still believe, that our most valuable possessions in life cannot be bought or sold. Think of some of your own. For me it might be the way my eyes perceive the sunrise, the beauty of the land around me, the joy of sunlight streaming through the trees in my woods, the sound of my children’s  and grandchildren’s voices, the way my cats settle around me before sleep and their joyful anticipation of their breakfast, barely letting me make a stop in the bathroom as they corral me to the kitchen each morning with a chorus of meows. It is the warmth in the eyes of the man I love, his humility and the comfort of his embrace. It is the undulating whispers of field grass in the oscillating wind. It is memory, both the lovely ones and the painful ones, the history of my days that can never be erased from my heart, my character, even if they slowly fade from my mind. It is the love and shared experiences of my family. It is the invaluable prize of friendship and community. It is having people in your life that are there to help you pick up the pieces when you’ve been shattered, and in turn doing the same for them. It is my faith and hope. My hard-earned wisdom and the freedom to live my life on my own terms, and the blood, sweat and tears of those who came before me and have shared that wisdom, made that freedom possible. Priceless things. The real worth of life. The real value of being human. And what about the ability to take whatever it is that life brings our way, good or bad, and turn it into something of value? Writers, artists and poets do this all the time. These are the things I have no problem assigning value to, because their worth is beyond quantifying. The value is fathomless.

Monetary income is the perfect deceiver of a man's true worth. The richness that we experience in our lives, the kindness and goodness we give and receive, is the great equaliser, no? The poorest woman can be as rich as the wealthiest, when it comes to our true worth. The poorest man can also be poor in spirit, just as a wealthy man can. Success cannot be defined by the dollar sign. I may always struggle with putting a price on my offerings to the world, but I’m hopeful that by remembering where my true worth resides, I will learn to be more comfortable with the dollar signs, even more appreciative and grateful for the true rubies and gold. For what it's worth.