I do not believe in capitalism. In fact, although I understand the logic behind using money, we have made such a horror off it, than I would rather see it disappear so we could try and manage without it. Tough, but fair - real need for real need, and all within our means.
Now, one of the things that put me on the trail of the horror of money is the concept of meanness, and of showing love. And, as any horror, it could be a story...
Once upon a time, people realised they had different gifts and values. Of course, there was the lordship and the church, but they were not people. People were the ones who worked, who produced, who knew the value of things: one bushel of barley = x hours of backbreaking work in the fields; one dress = y hours of blinding weaving and sewing; and so on. Most of all, they knew the value of family, of children, of neighbour.
These people were not necessarily nice, mind you. Sometimes they fought, they hurt each other, they could be violent and criminal. Yet, because they knew the value of things, they understood the value of gifts.
These people knew, for example, how hard it was to grow fruit, and how many lemons went into a glass of lemonade. As a result, they would leave the lemonade-drinking to days of merriment, and praise the lemonade-makers for their effort and generosity. A glass of lemonade, refreshing and full of vitamins, was a gift fit for a king (in fact, oranges were only available to a few until less than a hundred years ago - mull on that for a bit)! The ability of a household to economise and organise its resources wisely to last was its greatest wealth. Thus, old clothes were handed down and reused,donated or recycled into patchwork items, and lastly used as rags. Similarly, food was purchased according to need, not whim, when it was not foraged or grown at home. Even more careful was the acquisition of houses, furniture or household goods: there were few, though built to last and be bequeathed to future generations.
Then, slowly, wicked forces made the people forget the worth of things. They grew distant from the value of the labour and came to believe that bits of metal, then colourful paper, and finally numbers on a screen (mere pulses of light, after all) could equate that value. But in their heart, they knew better, and so they recognised that never mind how many numbers you used to buy stuff, they could not cover the worth of the object, let alone the recipient.
Parents started working more and more hours, trying to accumulate more and more numbers, in order to use those numbers to get something for their kids, to show them the worth of their love. Lovers became convinced that only through using numbers to get things to give their beloved could they really show how great their love was. Friends began fretting, for the items their other friends had given them (for Xmas, say, or their Bday), had to be matched for a new item of equal 'numberness' on the tag, lest they be proven unworthy.
Then, one day, one of the people, exhausted of trying to match numbers (which, after all, never did exist), gave up. S/he got together friends and family and confessed that s/he had nothing more to give. And the friends and family, who loved the one very much, decided that it was OK. They decided, from then on, to make - not buy - their presents. But they did not know anymore how to produce things of value, they did not know how to value things. So they decided to ask one another 'What do you need, that I can give you?' One said a hug, the other a favourite book in another's collection, yet another asked for some delicious homemade pie... And they were happy sharing like that.Soon, the people around all cottoned on, and unlearned to misunderstand worth. Some of the number handlers were mad, but they soon forgot. After all, the numbers never did exist, but in bits of light.
So now it's our turn, to ask one another, 'What do you need, that I can give you?'
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