Rich People's Problems

Rich People’s Problems

I live in an ivory tower. Or so it seems. A house on the hill with picture windows. A stunning view. High beamed ceilings. Bamboo floors. Brick fireplace. Oversized master bedroom. Ravens and crows soaring through the air. My home offers a comforting silence in the middle of a busy metropolis and I have a sense of satisfaction that I created my own good fortune.

It all looks envious on paper. So does my past. I traveled the world with a ballet company. I danced at the White House. I lived in Monte Carlo, I performed for European royalty and I learned to speak French. But now, I can get depressed in two languages when my ivory tower becomes a sinking well. At the bottom of the pit, it doesn’t matter what I have and don’t have. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve done or haven’t done. I still get irritable. I grouse about traffic. My refrigerator makes too much ice. My hot tub is on the blink and I can’t find a decent gardener. I don’t even know how to clean my own house.

I’m spoiled. I’m privileged. Like the title of a novel by Kevin Kwan, “Rich People’s Problems,” my difficulties have ready solutions, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to feel badly when something upsets me. Or to be afraid when something scares me. Or to feel guilty or crushed or shattered. Prince or pauper, we are all human, we are all ruled by the same human instincts and accumulating material things is not the answer. Anxiety can cripple anyone. Being depressed has nothing to do with how much money you have in your pocket.

“I don’t understand why that person jumped out of an eight-story window,” someone said. “He had a wonderful family, houses all over the world, his own plane, a great partner and the means to get anything he wants. If I had half of his fortune, I’d be happy. How could he have been depressed?”

Clearly, success doesn’t equal happiness. When life becomes unbearable, a large bank account means little. In a hopeless state of mind, nothing feels good and this kind of suffering is as prominent among the wealthy as it is among the poor. Maybe more so because well to do people grow up thinking that financial success means having a happy life. But that idea is ill-conceived from a belief system that making money is more important than helping each other. So how do we make it right?

 I often turn to Buddhist leaders to find answers to profound questions. Before he became the Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama lived in a palace with his wife. Having been protected all his life, he was curious about what happened outside of the palace walls so he asked a servant to show him the outside. Once there, he was stunned to encounter suffering for the first time. He tried many different paths that claimed to be the antidote but they all proved false. Finally, he sat down to meditate beneath a Bodhi tree and he vowed to find enlightenment or die right there. Fortunately, he had a flash of illumination, his spirt awakened and he found the real antidote to suffering. It was compassion without attachment, and staying aware of the present moment.

I do my best to stay present, but what if the present moment sucks? Sometimes it does but I’ve learned that running away from it only prolongs the pain. Staying with it is uncomfortable but facing your demons head on gives you strength and brings you closer to finding compassion and peace. We have to go all the way in to come back out.

When I was researching the healers in the Philippines, I met some wealthy people with maids and servants. They invited me and my and traveling companion to sumptuous dinners in their lavish homes. I appreciated the invitations but during the meal, all they talked about was how incompetent their help was and how hard it was to keep their businesses thriving. I left feeling empty even though the food had been abundant.

One day, when we were way out in the boondocks, a family who lived in a nipa hut invited us for dinner. It was the humblest of abodes with no toilet seat and everyone slept in the same room. In the makeshift kitchen, the wife was making chicken and rice and she invited us to sit at the table. She served us, the family stood back to watch us eat and they couldn’t stop smiling. In that moment, felt a dilemma. If we cleaned our plates, the family would go without dinner. If we didn’t, we would deprive them of the pride they felt for offering us the little that they had. We ate and it was a joyous occasion as we all laughed and told stories throughout the meal. When we were finished, my friend and I felt full, both physically and spiritually.  

The above showed me that money does not buy joy. All over the Philippines, there were business people who were always preoccupied with making money. There were also people who made meager money and they never stopped smiling and laughing. I’m not suggesting that being wealthy is a bad thing and always leads to suffering. I’m also not saying that being poor is a good think and it always leads to happiness. What I am saying is that rich or poor, we have a choice about how we want to live. Comparing, superiority, entitlement and stepping on other people to get ahead is the path to suffering. Acceptance, kindness, thoughtfulness and compassion is the path to peace.

We all need money to survive but when is enough, enough? How much do we really need? How much do we need to have to give other people a helping hand? It has nothing to do wealth. It’s an attitude. I know a woman of limited means who gives out money whenever she is grateful. I know a wealthy man who wouldn’t consider giving a dollar to someone on the street holding a sign.

When someone asked the Dalai Lama what surprised him most about humanity. He said, “Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money.”