The Value of Things

June 9, 2008


I like this piece by David Spangler. Now that gas is costing $4.00 a gallon and $100.00 barely buys a bag of groceries I find myself taking a closer look at my relationship with the things in my life. My interactions with my belongings take on new meaning. I appreciate what I have and frequently find myself expressing gratitude for small things; for the warmth of my bed, my soft blue striped sheets, with my little gray cat curled up in the corner , her belly gently falling and rising with each breath. Perhaps this declining American economy is a good thing for some of us who've been all too wrapped up in consuming; using more than our share for so many years, oblivious to the suffering of others who have not even enough to eat. We like to think of ourselves as a decent generous people but we will likely be stretched in ways we can't even imagine. Perhaps most of us will rise to occasion and will share what we have and look after one another, I hope that is the case. More interesting is what David talks about; how will having so much less affect our identiy, what we value about ourselves, and how we relate to one another.




David's Desk #13
David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this letter with others, please feel free to do so; however the material is ©2008 by David Spangler. If you no longer wish to receive these letters please let us know at info@Lorian.org. Previous issues of "David's Desk" are posted on www.lorian.org. THE HAGGLED SELF When I was six, my father's work took our family to Morocco where we lived for the next six years. I had many memorable experiences in that country but one that I particularly remember was watching Dad sit down in a store in the native market or souk and haggle. Being fluent in Arabic and being willing to haggle gave him an advantage right at the start, for most Americans were seen as naïve and even stupid for their readiness to pay whatever price the merchant first asked and their unwillingness to take the time to negotiate. For us, commerce was an economic transaction, the buying and selling of goods; for the Moroccan it was a social transaction. The haggling wasn't really about getting a good bargain. It was about forming a relationship and getting to know another person. It was a game of wits, but if played properly, both sides won and both were enriched beyond the exchange of currency and items. I didn't often go with Dad when he ventured into the souks to do his haggling. A single purchase could easily take an hour or more as mint tea was brought out and served and my father and the merchant would converse about many things quite apart from buying the rug, the tray, the tea set, or whatever had caught Dad's fancy. As the conversation was in Arabic, which I did not speak, I would get impatient with the process. But sometimes, if Dad knew the merchant, he would take me along and I would be served treats and given interesting things to look at while the grownups conducted their business. I was reminded of this the other day when I heard someone talking about his "True Self." By this he meant the spiritual part of himself, whatever that might be, with the implication that his personality was a false self. Surprisingly, what popped into my mind was the thought that in haggling, nothing has a true price. The price emerges from the relationship in the moment.At first, I wondered why this thought had been prompted by the man's comments about his "True Self." So I began thinking about haggling. In our culture when we go to a store and ask what something costs, we're shown a price tag. I pick up a book, for instance, and right on the cover the price is printed: "$7.99" or "$14.99" or whatever it may be. The value is established, (even if it's called the "Manufacturer's Suggested Retail Price) as if it's an intrinsic part of the item. But when we haggle over an item, it doesn't have an intrinsic price tag. It may have an intrinsic worth based on the materials it contains, which may be added to by subjective factors such as the time and energy spent in creating it. But it doesn't have a monetary value. That value emerges from our negotiations and can be based on a number of factors unrelated to the item itself. I may be feeling generous, so I'm willing to practically give you the item, or I may be feeling fearful and greedy, in which case I want to get as much money from you as I can. You bring your own needs, feelings, and perceptions to the table. From all of this mix, a price eventually emerges. Now we know what this item is worth, though it is a value unique to this moment and this exchange. Had we haggled over it yesterday or were we to haggle over it tomorrow, a different price might have been established. So in this sense, the item has no "true price." In haggling, which might be termed "relationship economics," the price arises from all the factors that go into the interaction. But this is not as arbitrary as it may seem. There is a cost to the item and a value to the materials from which it's made as well as the craftsmanship, time, and energy of manufacture. The merchant brings certain expenses and resources to the table. He has needs to be met. Likewise, my father did not have a bottomless purse. He had financial resources he could draw on, but they certainly weren't unlimited. The haggling relationship took place within definite boundaries. To go beyond those boundaries, to suggest a price that was unreasonably high or low, was to disrespect the relationship and the haggling process. So even though there was no "true price," there were truths that were brought to the enterprise. My father, the merchant, and the item each brought the truth of their individual conditions and identities. For instance, the fact that Dad spoke Arabic and was willing to haggle and observe the social customs was a truth that made the merchant more favorably inclined towards him and set the beginning offer lower than it might have been otherwise. Thinking of this, I realize that I don't have a sense of having a "True Self" (nor, for that matter, a "false self" either). I have a sense of different levels and layers of Self, but all of them seem true to me-and all of them emerge in some way out of relationship with other forces and with a large context. They are all "haggled" selves, or to put it more simply, I am a haggled self. (Sometimes a haggard one as well, but that's a different story!) I like that image. It doesn't mean that I have no value, identity, or meaning but rather that my identity is part of a participatory, co-creative, co-incarnational process. The universe has not set a price on me; I'm free to determine that price-that worth-myself in dialog with the cosmos. I understand what the gentleman who spoke of his "True Self" was getting at. We all have a sense that there is some part of us that is not a product simply of the whims and fortunes of fate, that does not change day by day, and that provides a source of constancy and coherency, a sense of continuity and integrity. But in the haggling metaphor, that represents to me what I might call my "resource self," the resources I bring to the daily negotiations of life, just as my father brought certain financial resources to the merchant's bargaining table. These are resources of spirit, wisdom, energy, soul, sacredness which I can draw upon. They are part of my truth, the truth I bring to the daily process. The world brings its own truths and its own resources. But these are not unchanging. If we hit a bad financial patch, Dad would not shop at all in the souks or would approach his haggling from a much more restricted position; if we were flush, then he went with more abundant resources. But the resources he had didn't affect the process of the haggling itself. They shaped the relationship but were not at the core of it. That core was the honor and respect that Dad and the merchant paid to each other as partners in a social enterprise. Even if no sale was made at all, they still enjoyed each other and had a good time. There was a value to the process itself. And part of that process is the truth each participant brings to it. I think what bothered me about the idea of a "True Self," in the sense that the gentleman was using it, was the implication that all other levels and experiences of Self were false. This seemed like saying we each carry an ultimate inner "price tag" that determines who we are independent of the world and of others, a "Manufacturer's Suggested Retail Price" of the soul stamped on us when we leave the factory, and that all other possible identities are false. These other identities might undervalue or overvalue us, but whether they are false or not depends on what the world is willing to offer and what we're willing to accept. For me, our "True Self" is our capacity to engage with the world in a way that the greatest possible value and result for all of us can emerge through our participation and relationships with life. It's not so much the part of us that is eternal and unchanging but the part of us that really knows how to haggle.
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