Wants and Needs

"Civilization is the limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities."   -Mark Twain 

Early this morning as I walked, my thoughts were sailing thousands of miles away.  My empathy reached out across time and space to human beings now contending with forces beyond their control.  Violent shaking of tectonic plates, giant whirlpools, and 20 foot walls of water are unwanted intrusions into human life.  It is beautiful here on this morning in the heartland, but I am under no illusions.

Spring is beginning to show new green shoots in the flower beds.  Dormant winter grass is greening in the warmth of the sun.  Trees stand ready to leaf in the next warm hours.  Geese are migrating in huge V's moving north up the Mississippi.  When I listen closely, I hear a rhythmic beat.  It's just the drumbeat of life on this March Missouri morning, but I am moving out to a panoramic view today.

A catastrophic event thousands of miles away is a strong tap on the shoulder.  When I turn, I come face to face with my own life.  When I see the hopes and dreams of lifetimes being swept away like toys in a gutter, I have to consider it.  What do I want from this journey we call life?  What do I really, truly need?

Mark Twain's observation that "civilization is the limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities" is a brilliant one.  It stands out in relief when back lit by the Japanese disaster.  I think we need water, food, shelter, love, and hope.  Everything else is icing on the cake, but we all think we need more.  We have fooled ourselves into inventing millions of necessities.  I have fallen into that trap, but only when my wants are casually brushed away do I see how truly unnecessary most of my necessities are.

As I looked up at a stately old sycamore tree, I see both the beauty and the scars.  Limbs were missing and the top has toppled long ago.  This old tree on Taylor is living every day with danger in many forms.  So do I.

Most of us think we need peace and security.  We go to great lengths to find these elusive goals.  We have burglar alarms, neighborhood watches, police forces, and safe rooms.  We buy fire insurance, flood insurance, health insurance, and even life insurance, but in the end we cannot insure peace or find security.  Peace and security are both necessities we cannot afford.  And even if we could afford the price, they are just not for sale.

What can we do? We can see the geese migrating north.  We can see the tentative green shoot heralding spring.  We can look up at the white and tan mottled sycamore tree.  We can satisfy our real needs.  We can practice the art of living well and maybe even simplify our lives.  We can focus on the important things.  We can enjoy this day to the fullest.