by Ben Hewitt
That said, systemic change via our political organism has a frustrating tendency to take its own sweet time. This is the consequence of the cumbersome, layered nature of democracy, and the centuries of collectivism that have delivered us to this time and place. Generally speaking, it is only during times of chaos and outright crisis that our leaders move quickly, and even then they are hardly guaranteed to move in a healthy direction. As of this writing, the most recent example of this is the financial crisis of 2008, which of course only served to further the status quo and deepen our dependency on the unconscious economy by massively increasing the nation’s debt load. Equally damaging is the continued assumption that we might “grow” our way out of the mess, as if doing more of the very thing that almost brought us to our knees will somehow deliver lasting rejuvenation.
It is funny how differently I interpret things now that I understand the conscious economy. No longer are reports of rising retail sales or increased manufacturing output or booming GDP numbers music to my ears. It is not so much that I wish for economic contraction and the inevitable suffering it visits upon us all. But the aforementioned metrics are merely offshoots of the unconscious economy, and their growth is no more reflective of our true health, wealth, and well-being than a three-beer buzz is to an alcoholic. In a very real sense, so-called improvements in these benchmarks are actually bad news, because the longer we rely on them to define our prosperity, the more dependent we become on the status quo. The real tragedy is not so much that the unconscious economy is poised to fail (although this is certainly true), but that it is utterly dependent on an ongoing crisis of exploitation, oppression, and outright robbery.
Still, the growth imperative remains the prevailing model, and because it is a model that disproportionately benefits those at the top of the income ladder,42 it will not go gently into the dark night. Indeed, it is likely that we will only see increasing inequality as the unconscious economy continues to unwind and those who depend on its survival to maintain their archaic notion of wealth are compelled to hoard what remains. This situation will not last forever—our underlying resource base, not to mention the increasingly restless 99 percent, ensure that its days are numbered—but it might last longer than we can currently imagine. Already it has survived well beyond the time frame predicted by many.
All of this is not to say we should not work to bring the tenets of the conscious economy to the consciousness of the highest offices in the land. However, we would do well to remember who truly pulls the strings, and it is those who have the most to lose from this transition. Of course, they don’t really have anything to lose, or at least, they have nothing of real value to lose, and only true wealth to gain. But the perception that there would be loss, coupled with the considerable inertia of maintaining the status quo, leaves me skeptical that an institutionalized adoption of the conscious economy is likely to take place anytime before the cannibalistic destruction of its unconscious cousin.
Therefore, my inescapable conclusion is that it is up to us. If there is to be a near-term movement toward an economy that rejects the artificial security of accumulated tangible assets and embraces the true wealth of that which cannot be measured in dollars, it will begin at the individual level. But because we are as individuals connected to those around us, and because the conscious economy honors and strengthens these connections, to begin at the individual level is to begin at the communal level. That is the beauty of an economy that demands interconnectedness: It cannot happen in the vacuum of any individual’s sphere. It is contagious.
All of this is well and good but admittedly a bit long on theory and short on specifics. So I return now to the question of how my life has changed as my views on money and wealth have evolved, and what follows is the difficult version of my answer. It is not difficult in the sense that it is hard to articulate; in truth, much of it quite readily lends itself to retelling. Instead, what makes it challenging is the understanding that what has been both applicable and possible for me, may not be so for others. It would be specious for me not to acknowledge the advantages and privileges I enjoy. Some are courtesy of my upbringing; some are the result of decisions made long ago. Ironically, at least a few have been directly enabled by the unconscious economy, which I have leveraged over the years to generate the income necessary to move more facets of my life into the realm of a conscious economy.
I make no claims to righteousness regarding my personal economic story. By necessity, I have my feet planted in both the conscious and unconscious economies and I know of no one—Erik Gillard included—who can say differently. This duality is a necessary component of any transition, or of any smooth transition, at least. So I will not apologize for the contradictions that exist in relation to my economic sphere. They exist in part because I am responsible for the well-being of myself and my family, and in part because, frankly, there are elements of the unconscious economy that are simply too seductive to ignore. Have I given up driving, an act that, with its litany of externalized costs, is as embedded in the unconscious economy as any I can think of? Why, no, I haven’t. Nor have I sworn off air travel, or technologies that exist only at the behest of the unconscious economy. I certainly did not scratch this manuscript into a cave wall with a sharp bit of stone. Of course, there are innumerable other ways in which I swim in the current of false abundance, so thoroughly has it infiltrated 21st–century American life.
So that’s some of what hasn’t changed in my life and, by extension, the lives of my family. Here’s what has:
Given my newfound understanding of money creation, I am even more firmly resolved to avoid debt via the traditional channels (bank, credit card, finance companies, etc.). Whereas I once avoided these sources of debt strictly from a place of mild phobia and fear of sacrificing my autonomy in service of repayment, I now avoid them because I consider them to be damaging, not only to myself, but to the broader world. To dilute the money supply, while making excessive claims on the underlying resource base simply because I desire to “own” something that is beyond my means, no longer feels like a justifiable action. This is not to say there are not viable reasons to assume debt, reasons that fit within the context of a conscious economy. And it is a profoundly sad statement about the well-being of our nation that many people are forced to assume debt simply to acquire the most basic essentials of human survival. If ever there were evidence that money and commoditization have exceeded their proper boundaries, this is it.
I am not prepared to say that I would never again consider going into debt; only that if I were to procure a loan, it would be from a lender that does not leverage its reserves in order to create “money” out of thin air. Furthermore, excepting crisis situations, such as a health care or some other emergency, I cannot imagine assuming debt for anything that does not move me in the direction of economic consciousness. Which is to say, you will not soon see me behind the wheel of a new car, or sipping pina coladas on the deck of a cruise ship.
It occurs to me that of the many ways I am privileged, the luxury of choosing to avoid debt might be the most profound. The unconscious economy has largely stripped this privilege from our culture, and the very nature of interest-bearing debt all but ensures a treadmill of debt servitude that only the most diligent or fortunate can avoid. To be sure, my evasion of debt has taken a measure of both diligence and good fortune. And of course it didn’t hurt that I married a woman willing to live without running water for years on end. Still, it is nonetheless true that a tremendous quantity of credit is extended for the purchase of nonessentials. Indeed, if we suddenly decided, en masse, to borrow only for life’s true necessities of clothing, food, and shelter, our current economy would collapse. So while it is probable that not everyone can be so quick as myself to foreswear money-creating debt, it is equally probable that most can avoid exacerbating and extending the unconscious economy simply by swearing off debt for the purchase of nonessentials.
I have also come to understand how my accumulation of m
onetary wealth and other so-called financial assets is detrimental to the world beyond my door and, not inconsequently, to myself. But of all the conscious economy’s tenets, I find that the nonaccumulation of money beyond my family’s short-term needs is the thorniest to navigate. This is true for many reasons. First, we do not yet inhabit an entirely conscious economy, so the safety net of interdependence I spoke of earlier does not yet exist in full. Second, having been reared in contemporary America, I have been indoctrinated in the belief that such accumulation is worthy of my undivided attention and rigorous efforts and indeed is part and parcel of the so-called American Dream. Finally, I find that I cannot completely sever my emotional trigger in regard to money. It’s as if each opportunity to cash in transforms me into one of Pavlov’s hapless subjects. I ring the bell and sit up smartly, waiting obediently for my reward.
There are innumerable justifications for monetary accumulation beyond my immediate needs, but the one that triggers the most emotional vulnerability is the simple fact that I have children; is it not my duty to protect them from the unpredictability of this cold, cruel world? Is it not my duty to provide for them, to maintain a reserve to be tapped in the event of some unforeseen emergency? I believe it is, but an obvious question arises: How much is enough? Five thousand dollars? Ten thousand? One hundred thousand? A half million? There is no clear answer, and therefore, no correct answer, and I know from personal experience that no amount—or, at least, no amount that I’ve been able to amass—ever feels like enough. I can recount specific instances when we’ve had $1,000 in savings and I’ve thought, “If only we had $2,000, I’d feel secure.” And then $2,000 comes and I can’t help thinking that $3,000 would make me feel just a wee more comfortable. You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you? I suppose there might be an upper end to this line of thought—I mean, is it possible that, say, Warren Buffet frets over his nest egg? Frankly, I think it is possible, but even if it’s not, I hardly need point out that Warren Buffet is as extreme an example as exists, and that there’s a hell of a lot of daylight between my family’s modest savings (and, I’m betting, yours) and Buffet’s fantastically out-sized holdings.
At this point, I hardly need to point out that in a fully conscious economy, the very unpredictability I would seek to shield my children from would be largely mitigated. This would be true on a personal and regional level, where I could rely on the interconnectedness of my community to provide the support the unconscious economy forces me to purchase. But to an extent, it would also be true on a national and even global scale, where the adoption of a conscious economy would significantly reduce the risk of such unpredictability in the first place. In a conscious economy, the hazards of the contemporary global condition, in which there is significant tension caused by the hoarding of resources and competition for economic, political, and military dominance, has given way to peaceful interdependence. Indeed, one can see clear parallels between how the unconscious economy functions on both global and individual levels; the issues and damages are very much the same. Only the scale and scope are different.
Still, none of this resolves the fact that, much as we might wish otherwise, the unconscious economy currently dominates and, much as we might wish otherwise, we cannot simply choose to live beyond the reach of its laws, both written and unwritten. And so the question pertaining to the accumulation of monetary wealth lingers: how to resolve the conflict between what I wish for and the reality I must navigate? The answer to this question deserves some detail, because of course this is a question that is central to every one of the conscious economy’s tenets: Namely, how does one move in a direction that one knows to be correct and healthy for humanity at large when doing so creates a degree of vulnerability that must be borne by the individual?
In truth, there is a short answer to this question, at least for my family and myself. It is perhaps a little snarky, but no less the honest for being so: How does one not move in a direction that one knows to be correct and healthy for humanity at large? For us, at least, it has become untenable to not do everything within our power to move toward a conscious economy, even in the context of widespread and entrenched arrangements that all but ensure such movement will at times feel treacherous.
That’s the short answer. Here is the long one.
Regarding money, we have generally chosen to not accumulate more than we might reasonably need as a buffer against unanticipated expenses. Given that we carry no debt, and are able to provide many of the basic essentials for ourselves on our farm, this figure is probably lower than it will be for someone in a more typical financial arrangement. On the other hand, considering the inconsistent paychecks inherent to my line of work, we do feel compelled to maintain enough savings to see us through a lean month or two.
The conversation regarding monetary accumulation would not be complete without distinguishing between accumulation solely for the purpose of so-called “security” in an unknowable future and saving toward a well-defined goal that moves one in a positive direction. This is not to say that saving for retirement is not valid; indeed, if it is your life dream to ensure that your twilight years are met with monetary abundance, and you are content making the necessary sacrifices now to meet your expectations for the future, well then, go for it. I am not here to tell you that your dream is any less valid than mine, or than anyone else’s.
But no matter what you are saving for, this is what I suggest: Do not save money out of fear. Instead, save money only when saving money is going to help you realize a dream or take a step toward that dream. Accumulate money only once you have asked yourself if what you are accumulating it for is worth more to you than the portion of your life being exchanged for those symbolic units of value. I have not forgotten Erik’s unlikely math lesson, learned during his internal debate over whether or not to purchase his bicycle. “And then I realized that the price equaled six workdays; six days in the woods with kids. Would I trade six days in the woods for this beautiful bike? I realized I would, and it affirmed to me that I am living a right lifestyle.” Simply reminding myself that each purchasing decision is in reality a decision to exchange a fraction of my life for a particular item has been enough to profoundly alter my consumptive patterns.
We have chosen to not put a hard ceiling on how much money we will earn, although it is interesting to note that in the second year of my writing this book, I earned $37,428, very near the $35,145 I pulled down in year one. We have become exceptionally comfortable on this income, and the current thinking is that we could live handsomely on much less. Indeed, we are moving in that direction, with the intention that whatever income we do not need to meet daily expenses will be applied toward our goal of establishing a conscious economy by allowing it to flow through us.
This warrants further explanation, if for no other reason than it might sound a bit specious to leverage the unconscious economy’s monetary wealth for the purpose of building a conscious economy. But I stand firm in my conviction that money, both in concept and physical construct, is not the problem: The problem is intent; the problem is how we use money, and what we expect of it.
Therefore, our intent for monetary wealth in excess of our daily needs is to find ways in which it might build upon the portion of our economy that is tilting toward consciousness. This could mean interest-free loans to friends who need capital; it could mean investments that allow us to produce more nourishment on our small farm, to be made available to our community. Lately, we have been planting fruit and nut trees, and if there’s a more humbling acknowledgment of my own mortality than planting a bareroot nut tree that is not likely to produce in my lifetime, I’m not sure what it is. And we have been investing heavily in our farm’s depleted soils, returning them to health with minerals and organic fertilizers.
I know that some will find it downright irresponsible that we are not investing this money in retirement accounts and college savings plans, and I must confess, there are times when we question the wisdom of not doing
so. We live in a society that refuses to acknowledge the holistic wealth that is embodied in our trees and soil. Indeed, these are “investments,” for both will surely return what we have put into them, and more so. But of course they are not recognized as such, and their returns will not be accepted as currency for a great many of the things we need in a commodity marketplace. If one of my children falls ill and requires medical care, I can’t just show up at the hospital with a bushel of apples to exchange for treatment.
This is the thorniest factor in moving my family’s life in the direction of a conscious economy; namely, I cannot control the reality that most of the economy still operates in an unconscious sphere and the fact that, much as I might wish otherwise, I remain dependent on commodified goods and services and the monetized relationships they give rise to. This vulnerability is particularly acute in the realm of health care, which has become so fantastically expensive that many people spend large portions of their lives working jobs they can’t stand just so they can maintain the health benefits provided by those jobs.
Still, it must be acknowledged that many of our current health woes are a direct result of the unconscious economy. For instance, the incidence of type 2 diabetes has tripled in some age groups over just the past 4 decades, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention predicts that as many as one-third of adults could have diabetes by 2050. Not surprisingly, diabetes has become an enormously profitable disease for the pharmaceutical industry, with Americans spending $100 billion on treatment annually.
The question, of course, is why diabetes (to name just one of a plethora of diseases that are currently skyrocketing) is becoming so prevalent. The answer in large part is the rapid evolution of our commodity food system toward cheap and generously subsidized crops like corn and soy. Is it any coincidence that the tripling in type 2 diabetes rates occurred over the same period during which consumption of high fructose corn syrup rose from approximately 4 pounds to 40 pounds annually per capita?
