Honest Living

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if everyone made an honest living. What if all jobs were in some way a benefit to mankind and what if companies didn’t charge too much for products or services. What if everything was reasonable? What if there were no monopolies? I know I’m asking too much. But what if everyone just did enough to have what they needed?

I look at people and their lifestyles and wonder how they keep it all together. These thoughts have stuck with me having rented a spare room temporarily with a family. Both parents are thirty-something health professionals and they have two children, 4 and 3.

I wouldn’t normally stay with a family but for 5 weeks it was convenient.

I watch them. The family. Not in a creepy way but the way someone watches things when lazily microwaving a potato for dinner. I look at the alarm (6AM) when the kids are tearing up the house in the morning. And I watch him (the father) fall asleep on the couch at 8:30PM with an un-drunk cup of tea in front of the television.

Is this the future? I think.

This cannot be the future.

It is this fear of this sort of thing becoming my life that has prompted thoughts about living modestly and making honest gains.

Why do we work so hard? What makes us work so hard? Do we have to work so hard?


These are my answers;

Capitalism. The rich have power. They rich have luxury. The rich have people under them making them money. Why not be rich?

Yep. That’s about it.

But I wonder how many of us working class get there? I mean truly get there. And what is the cost?

I’m not coming from a “let’s move the country and start a commune” point of view (although I do fantasize about it from time to time). Business and industry is important part of society. But what if people worked less? I’m not saying work less hard. I’m saying: still work hard, simply work less. What if we job shared? The tasks would all get done. The cogs of society would keep turning. We’d all have more time for recreation. We wouldn’t always be microwaving potatoes for dinner and we’d all have better quality of life, health and well-being. There would also be a lot less unemployment.
It’s a wonderful thought: A three day work week and a four day weekend.

I know, I know, this is sounding a bit like communism. But isn’t the idea of communism quite beautiful until human nature kicks in and the balance of the scales are corrupted by laziness and greed? There will be people that want something for nothing and there will be people that want everything at the expense of others. We can’t eradicate human nature and therein lies the problem. 

I walked across Spain on an ancient pilgrimage trail several years ago with my friend Matt. We stayed in refuges, most really cheap, some requiring only donation. It is a popular trail. Some do it for religious purposes although many do it to ‘reconnect’ with the simple way of life and ‘escape’ the trappings of their general realm of existence. Each day basically consisted of fellowship, walking, eating, drinking, sleeping and enjoying the scenery. The only problem was some people saw it as a race. They wanted to get to the next refuge before everyone else. They would get up at 5AM, turn the lights on in the dormitory, create noise by packing all their belongings and disrupt everyone’s sleep just so they could trudge on ahead. Maybe they were scared of not having a place to sleep. Maybe they just felt the need to arrive at the next destination first.

I revisited Northern Spain again earlier this year and re-walked some of the trail. A Hollywood movie had been made about the walk since and I was surprised at how much busier it had become. It was actually too busy. People were now getting up at 4AM and by lunchtime there were lines outside the refuges waiting for them to open. The prices for refuges had also been put up. Many people even cheated by taking a bus.

Maybe that is just like working life. People have this desire to have more than others or get there faster so they pursue these things rather than focus on meeting their own needs and enjoying the journey.

It is after all the journey that is important, not the destination.

I don’t know where the world is going. We have technology that is supposed to make things easier for us but it ends up making us more busy. We put our kids in a daycare or kindergarten so both parents can work and then this industry of child minding blossoms and pushes up the prices of time spent with our children. Suddenly we want a night out without our kids and then we realize that it’s going to cost us $100 for the babysitter because the going rate is $20/hour. Such is the case with the family I am staying with.

Maybe I’ve travelled too much and maybe I’ve fallen a little too out of touch but I just don’t get what it is everyone is aspiring towards.

On the Gold Coast everyone looks at and wants this;

Gold Coast Highrise and coastal real estate

But I’m looking in the opposite direction. I’m looking at this;

Gold Coast Hinterland

In ten years I wouldn't be surprised if people no longer walk across Spain but instead opt to drive.
There will be pilgrim taxes imposed for accommodation. The concept of 'pilgrimage' will be lost.


The family I have been renting a room off live on the Gold Coast but they never really get to go to the beach.

On the Gold Coast there are already public buses branded with images of women with large breasts advertising for 'medical holidays' in Asia. I hear nurses at work talking about them along with botox and nip-tucks. Meanwhile the 'hard' men are wearing sleeve tattoos and they drive around in fancy cars purchased on finance.

It's all smoke and mirrors.


Watch what you place your value in.

Watch what it costs you.

Choose wisely.

Live honestly.

Dying is for Suckers

Dying is for suckers so I'm not going to do it. Think about it. Wouldn't it change the way you looked at the world. Wouldn't it change your itinerary, your goals in life? Don't die. Just don't do it. It makes everything so much easier.

I meet people that are scared shitless of dying everyday. Most don't explicitly state it but I can tell. They proudly and importantly talk about their accomplishments and their achievements. They educate me on them because I am meant to appreciate their worth. They mention their boat, their overseas holiday house that they barely visit. The mansion they live in. They speak of their possessions as if holding onto them like they are slipping away. Good for them, I think. They may have generated considerable wealth. They may have established small empires for themselves. But what does it all mean? They're going to die. I'm not bothered with any of it.

That's not to say that I don't try to accomplish great things. That's not to say that I'm not after a home and a holiday. I'm just not in such of a rush. I'm in no hurry. I just take my sweet time. The outlook is pretty cruisy when you think eternal.

All I'm after is a decent conversation, a hike in the hills, a play in the surf. I'm here to learn and to share, to enjoy and to grow. You would think I'd be more concerned about advancing empires in the time that I have. When you are not going to die you can build something that can trump anyone else's. You can spend more time working and more time investing. You can buy more land and afford more labourers. The truth is, this is still a waste of time. Even though I have all the time in the world, there are so much better things for me to do.

I would rather tell people that they shouldn't die because it is that simple. All they need to do is realize that they have a choice and choose not to do it. Just don't do it!

There are so many sunrises waiting to be seen from mountaintops. There are so many seas to be sailed. There are crops to plant and feasts to be shared at harvest. There is nothing else for us to do and there is no need to overcomplicate it.

I'm not going to die.

Even when my body is riddled with cancer and I'm on my deathbed.

Dying is for suckers.

Wisdom (as pointed out to me by elderly ghosts)

How I Learnt to Seek Wisdom: The story of my elderly ghosts

It all began in the hospital. I heard the screams of dead people, past, present and future. They whispered and pleaded but received no answer because the sands of their life had already fallen through the hours of their glass.


But then I had to go and see the people on their way out. Some were kind souls. They were at peace. They understood their fate and destination and ushered the transition as if some sort of holiday. Others were opposites. They clung desperately onto their remaining breaths. They were wretched, disconsolate works that cursed an ambivalent and distant time keeper, or refused to acknowledge any such entity completely. Their essential angst burned with a desire for the destruction of everything and everyone if that was to be their fate. It was a dichotomy that I found hard to shake. If there was one thing I learnt from the departing, it was to consider the destination of accumulated steps, the directions I took, the decisions I made.


And so I would part their curtains and transport myself into some sort of purgatory. Heaven or Hell I told myself. Each had its inclination. There was not much I could do for the bodies that lay, but my contract dictated that I be there to at least give them the option - or sentiment - of disparaging movement. Some would greet me with a smile and a gentle squeeze on my hand but others would outpour a tumultuous internal dialogue. They spoke to me like ghostly apparitions. They warned me of mistakes and the pending apocalypse. With skeletal arms they grabbed me by the collar and pulled my face until it met theirs. I would be forced to look into their half-dead, receding, blood vessel scrambled eyes. 


"Listen!" they would say. "It's happening now! You think you will live forever! I was like you once but look at me now! It tricks you! Time beguiles and dispossesses. There will be no more footsteps, your destination determined. Beware. Pay attention. The thief pretends to be a friend and soon you will be gone."

This is why I no longer work in hospitals. I prefer private clinics. People are much younger. There is no eminent death.


But the elderly people still haunted me. They followed me from the hospital and sat in the room watching as I treated the younger, healthier people. They pointed certain patients out to me. Sometimes they nodded in approval. Sometimes they made a throat slitting gesture. I asked them what they meant by such signals but they no longer spoke because they were dead. And so the behavior continued. Sometimes there was a shake of the head, sometimes a nod, sometimes a slit of the throat. They would follow me to the tea room. When I left work at the end of the day, they would watch me through the window as I drove away.


After a couple of years of having these elderly people persistently follow me around I decided to consult a Great Physician on the matter. I told him about my ghosts and how they continually tried to communicate with me. At this point they were not only bothering me at work but had begun to follow me around everywhere. They would criticize choices of girlfriends, nod their heads in approval whenever I went for a run, fold their arms when I drank too much and conversed drunkenly in a nightclub.


"Why are they bothering me?" I asked the Great Physician.


"They want you to realize something" the Great Physician replied.


"What is it?" I enquired.


"There is nothing I can say that will not always be said" said the Great Physician. "And there is nothing that I can do that will not always be done. You must look, you must listen and you must pray. Everything in nature is a sign. It will be found by those who search and pray. But many do not bother. They are too stubborn, distracted or proud. The path to death is not with feet but led with the heart."  


And so I left the Great Physician's office and walked home with my elderly ghosts en tow.


Days went by and nothing changed. Work was the same. Ghosts would nod, shake their heads, or slit their throats depending on the patient. Life criticism was the same. When I ate my vegetables: nodding. When I went to the mall: shaking. When I considered contacting a particular girl: slitting of throats. I started to suffer from lack of sleep as the ghosts began to make a habit of standing by my bedside staring at me quietly through the night. I told them to go watch some television but they wouldn't listen. Every time I opened my eyes or woke from a dream their deathly faces would be staring at me.


One Saturday morning having woken to the staring faces of death I decided that I had had enough. I would finally get to the bottom of the mystery that was plaguing my life.


"What do you want from me?" I asked the ghosts.


They looked at me blankly.


"I know you can't talk so instead I am going to look to you for permission. If I walk in the right direction I want you to nod. If I walk in the wrong direction I want you to shake your head. And if I walk in completely the wrong direction, I want you to slit your throats. It will be like a modified version of Charades. You will guide my every action with your approval or disapproval."


The ghosts nodded happily.


And so I got out of bed: Nodding.


Slowly I walked towards the door to exit towards the kitchen but the ghosts shook their heads.


"You want me in my bedroom?" I asked.


They nodded.


I proceeded to slowly pivot on the spot and looked to the ghosts for approval. They nodded slowly and then nodded avidly and then proceeded to shake their heads when I had pivoted too far. I returned to the desirable direction and found myself facing my bookshelf.


"You want me to walk towards my bookshelf?" I asked.


They nodded.


There were not many books on my bookshelf. I picked up a magazine and the ghosts started slitting their throats.  I picked up a comic book and they started slitting their throats. I picked up a tennis ball: Slitting throats. Cricket trophy: slitting throats. Rubber band: Slitting throats. Paperclip: slitting throats. Half eaten apple: they pointed to the bin. Eventually I picked up a book. It was a book that I had neglected for some time but knew I should have been reading. The ghosts nodded.


I opened the book: nodding. I skipped to the back: shaking. I thumbed my way more towards the front: nodding. Eventually I found the right page and the ghosts were ecstatic. They threw their hands up in the air and celebrated, championing my achievement.


I proceeded to read from the book;


"Happy is the man who finds wisdom,
and the man who gets understanding,
for the gain from it is better than gain from silver
and its profit better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels,
and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honour.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her;
those who hold her fast are called happy."


And with that, the ghosts were gone.




So the moral of the story is this:
Seek wisdom when you are young because it will set all of your paths straight. It will lead to a long, honest life of joy and pleasure, void of regret. It is a wealth that all of the money in the world cannot buy. You will rest easy and peace will find you.