A Case for Sacred Economics

For greed all nature is too little. - Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Many, many moons ago, I read a book. A wonderful, wonderful book, entitled The Gift by Lewis Hyde. And as gifts go, I've since gifted it on...

But what I remember so clearly was the origin story he told of the 'Indian Gift Giver', a term usually meant to suggest someone who gives only to expect a favour or payment in return in whatever shape or form that may take. An insult.

However, in its origins, long-gone and brazen explorers - for the sake of politeness- arrived on American soil only to be embraced by their naive Native American tribes.

While seated around a fire by night, welcomed by the majestic elders, a pipe was passed on, to their guests, to display peace and goodwill.

However, the pipe was not solely for the wearied travellers. It belonged within the tribe. So that it might remain cyclical, a gift, a treasure, bestowed upon all neighbouring tribesman to maintain peace and goodwill for generations to come.

The western travellers were puzzled. Perhaps even outraged. To be offered a gift only to have it returned. And with that, the odious 'Indian Gift Giver' was born.

The more I read of Lewis Hyde's masterpiece, the higher my soul soared, for here, I had once thought myself mad; capitalism, greed, gross exploitation, a disease I'd felt, weighing so heavy on my soul. And here, an alternative.

And from here, I discovered the writings of Charles Eisenstein, an avid enthusiast and advocate for sacred economics, having written to date Sacred Economics, Climate—A New Story, and The More Beautiful World our Hearts Know is Possible. All books I lust over and shall finally devour when I one day have the dime.

Also coach and motivational speaker, Eisenstein remembered a time as a single father when he was forced to attend to a crucial talk, or put food on the table for him and his son. As such, when he branched out, he afforded affordable options to all, so that no man or woman would ever have to be in his former position ever again.

Meanwhile, another tour de force in my books, George Monbiot once suggested by way of advice that to be a writer, one with any integrity anyway, was to learn to live with less and less. So as to write exactly what one desired, without compromise. To build up a longlasting and promising portfolio of work with conviction.

And trust me, over the last 5 years pursuing my craft, I have found myself barely able to afford toilet paper, wiping my tinkles with a damp cloth some weeks instead, mastering a myriad of rice dishes with whatever was left in my fridge and dry store pantry, while prioritising cat food above all else.

But it has been my steadfast belief in the gifting economy that has saved me most of all, from the depression of disillusionment that with capitalism at the fore, humankind is without hope.

And truly, gifts are magical things. I seldom let a soul leave my home without a book I have read and loved and specifically chosen because I believe they too will love it. Or a green gemstone. Or a hat a few sizes to big for me, wide brimmed and felt and glamourous tan, that fits them like a glove.

And nothing means more to me than a gift.

In my bouts of mania when I'm likely to give away almost all earthly possessions, it is never the gifts... The only case I can recall was The Leith's veritable culinary bible for a friend off to chef's school. And I was not manic. And I loved her dearly. Still do. And I regret it not one bit for she is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever known, inside and out... She simply radiates love. A rare moonlit soul.

And gifts are sneaky. They often come to you when you most need them. When you least expect them. So treasure them always. And if you can join me... In charity shopping, in visiting the farmer's markets for your greens, in preening a houseful of plants in joyous discovery of what it is to care for a life, in hope and love and the power of the gift... There is, I promise you this, there is an alternative. It's only a brief future away, my beloved comrade.

All you gotta do is beilieve.

Campfire by Frank Howell

(https://www.sacredartsresearch.org/blog/2018/2/23/10-native-american-painters-schools-and-styles-you-should-know)