#23 Make More Money
May 6th, 2008 by doing better
If we wish to be respected by the rest of the world, our best bet is to make more money. If this proves difficult or impossible, there is always the alternative path: become a hermit/ barefoot monk/ Jesus.
If we wish to take the path of the impoverished yet spiritually enlightened, we may win respect – but not, of course, as much respect as we would gain from having money. There has been one Mother Teresa in recent memory, but there is a whole host of billionaires, like a plague of locusts.
Even so, there is no harm in aspiring to be a famous ascetic. It is an inexpensive option, at least. Yet we must not sit back in the desert with our fasting and praying and wait for the admiration to pour in. If we are truly dedicated to our goal of winning respect, we must be willing to endure severe hardships and, more importantly, set up a good publicity machine.
Our best chance is to emulate the pillar saints like Simeon Stylites. We can set up our pillar in the middle of the city, thus removing ourselves from the world while simultaneously sitting right in the middle of it and remaining quite conspicuous and available to the photographer’s lens.
Our devoted followers/fans will pass up food and gather to hear our words of wisdom, if we choose to communicate; or perhaps we shall build our pillar so high that no one will be able to hear us. An image is worth a thousand words, and we must cultivate our image carefully. Shall we be ragged in the traditional fashion, or shall we accept endorsement deals from fashion designers who are keen to exploit our prominent position?
At first our hermitage on the pillar may strike the public as a stunt of the David Blaine variety. We may suffer from pigeons and unkind editorials which cast doubt on our devoutness. The city’s bureaucrats may require that we put up a safety rail on our pillar.
As the months and years go by, however, the residents of the city will comprehend that our way of life is not a passing whim but a kind of devoted madness. They will grow accustomed to their eccentric saint. When they pass beneath our pillar, they may believe that we are whispering words of comfort to them in the sanctuary of their hearts. They will come to look on us as a friend; they will stand beneath us and tell us their woes. Brides and pregnant women will hug our pillar. They will point us out to visitors with pride, saying, This is the city with the famous pillar hermit. We will be in all the guidebooks. All over the world, our frail figure on its pillar will look out from billboards advertising our city.
Passing our life in rigorous contemplation, we may one day become oblivious to our fame as a landmark. We may not even know that our image is as known and loved as the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty. Our admirers will see us everywhere; and what shall we see?
We shall look out every day toward the horizon. We shall look up at the gray clouds and down upon this endless city, on the roads and roofs, the cars and buses, the anxious people, from whom we are ever divided by fifty feet of slender stone and united by the futility of this world. Their days go by in such a hurry, and ours are everlasting.