Corporation Crush

Piecing together a couple of historical events, coupled with a current struggle in the housing market amidst ongoing recovery corrections from the collapsed real estate bubble, I have discovered an unfulfilled human desire. ( I also pieced together this hiking boot on a backpack trip, maybe you'll follow the metaphor later) Low inventory has buyers trapped, yet there is a significant inventory out in the distant suburbs of really big houses and its got the market confused. Disparity on the low end and glut on the high end. Start up homeowners are unfulfilled. This desire, perhaps has always been tucked away under the surface of consumerism.  This desire shows itself in various ways, but is self evident in all of us.  This desire is the lack of profound meaning in our lives.  In every single way we are consumers first, then sentient beings second.  We want more meaning.  We want more connection.  We want more unfathomable and profound passion.  We want something more.  We all want to save this world.  Some of us find that in religion.  Some of us find that by trying to return to nature.  Wherever we seek this deeper connection to the legacy of our lives, we buy something.  The church has a CEO with a yacht and we buy into their collection plates.  Nature has been bought by wealthy landowners or through eminent domain by the state and is parceled off to us for vacation for a fee.  The wild is a thing of the past, lost to the archives in the annals of history.  Love has been absorbed by holidays.  Going green has been confiscated by marketing firms and label slapped on every consumable good that we put into our body for survival, and its expensive, however!!, most natural, and healthiest, smartest lifestyle choice we can make.  “Shut up and take my money!”, boldly and honestly exclaims every amazeballs thing on the internet.

So how do we finally beat back capitalism from controlling every single aspect of our lives? It seems so daunting. Capitalism. Big Pharma. Wall Street. Too big to fail means the same as way, way, way, too big for little old me to fight back. 

It can all start with the home.  When I bought my first home, I followed what was marketed to me by society. I wanted 2.3 children, a dog, and a fenced in yard, with a fireplace and a glorious man cave.  And I found it, a real gem.  It was 3 bedrooms, with a big master, hardwood floors, east facing bay windows to welcome the early morning sun, a brick arched fireplace, a lower-level I could turn into a woodshop, attached garage, and with a surrounding privacy fence in the back, even with a redwood deck for relaxing under the stars, *and it was even located off a park with trails that went all the way to the downtown so I could choose to drive, bike, or walk to my nearby metropolis.  It was going to become my own little paradise.  Only, I didn’t have kids just then.  It felt empty and I still desired meaning.  I did get a dog.  But I also did what everyone does with extra space. I filled it all with things to make it feel proportionally purposeful.  I got a rolltop desk.  I got a daybed.  I got a bigger sofa.  Eventually, I took in a roommate and, because the dog didn’t need extra space, that was honestly the only thing that actually worked toward curing the emptiness. This was a good learning experience.  If I had stayed in a smaller living space, I would not have acquired as many things because we all know we are forced to turn down items that we don’t have space for, like a pool table. But we say yes when there is a void, like to the same pool table.  

We have emotional voids, and we have physical voids.  The easiest and best thing to eliminate is the physical void.  Buy a smaller house or rent a smaller apartment: Fill it with less stuff. The math here is pretty easy.  Force yourself to organize.  Force yourself to buy fewer clothes.  Force yourself to gut your old storage boxes and donate or discard the things you do not actually need to survive.  We all cling emotionally to our stuff.  We need to stop that.  We all need to stop filling our emptiness with that which we do not need to survive.  I need to stop filling my emptiness with things that I won’t miss when I’m old and dying, which, if you’ve ever been around the dying, is nothing but memories.  They talk about events, time shared with loved ones, and sometimes about regrets.  They never talk about that clock that they hung onto because it reminded them of their mother.  They talk about their mother.  I have dead people’s stuff.  It is my biggest weakness. Full disclosure: I have a lot of things from dead loved ones.

Native Americans could pack up an entire village and carry it by hand, and by horse, and in one trip, within about a day. It took me a month to box up my crap last time I moved and we needed a truck for just two people. I'm sure you can relate. We're a collection of crap and we're swelling. The average total finished square foot home built in 1950 was 1580sf.  Currently, its 2450sf.  And that growth is certainly not for human need.  That 55% spacial growth is 55% more energy cost, more personal belongings, more cleaning products, more interior and exterior maintenance costs.  When you consider all the extra care you need to put into that 55% more space it becomes exponential.  Now, consider that in 1950, everything was paid for up front, in cash, other than maybe the mortgage.  Now add up all the stuff in your house, and put compound interest on it because you may have paid for it with a credit card, and add up all that additional square footage, and the space filling stuff, tack on those interest payments, and throw all of it on your back because that’s how much debt you owe the banks of the world, and you’ll be working it off for the rest of your life. I hope you feel where I'm going with this. We want to beat wall street, right? It starts with ourselves.

So, Why not buy into smaller housing? Or maybe its: How much space do we really need? And I mean really, really, and truly need. Not, how much space would feel comfortable? Not, how many bedrooms would we like to have for all the family growth? But How much space do we really need? And then, don’t buy any more than that. No matter what. Pay the mortgage extra times per year. Get rid of housing debt in 15 years instead 30. Make it so the total of your bills are food, taxes, and warmth. If you still work a career after that, take bigger vacations. Give more to charity. Start a massive savings program again. Drink a bottle of wine that costs 2 thousand dollars, just so you can say you did. Rebuild a 1937 Mercedez Benz. Rebuild a church. Whatever it is you dream about, you can make a reality, but only after quitting corporate America. It won’t be easy. It means sacrificing all those empty luxuries. I only say empty because that’s what they are in reality. We’re used to them. They're our identity. They are part of us. They don’t want to be amputated. They’ll call to us. They’ll be clingy. They’ll seem so important. They’ll keep showing up in commercials and in newsfeeds to remind us how great they are for us. But they are empty. They’re soulless. They mean nothing. They don’t require quarter in our homes. Say no to them. Better yet, buy a little tiny house, and then tell them there’s no room so they can’t argue. Say yes to your dreams.