The white-haired retiree waived at the white-haired retiree next to him and declared, “this guy’s a millionaire!”
Susie’s soccer team had been winning two to nothing when they called the half-time break. When Susie settled down with her water and snack, I indicated (by asking Deb if it was OK) that I was going to
visit the farmer’s market.
The booths of the farmer’s market were just across the parking lot from the soccer fields, and this was the third time a game had coincided with the market. The market had been closing by the time the game ended the other times, so I figured half-time was a good time to check it out.
As I approached I saw it was a small, local market of about thirty to forty booths—canvas awnings supported by metal poles, sheltering folding tables that held boxes or displays of merchandise. Most of the merchandise was locally-grown “natural” and/or “organic” produce, offered by the gardener/farmers who grew it. But there were also displays of tie-dye clothing, hand-made jewelry, flower essences, and various other products.
I’d purchased some produce. Twice been asked what kind of Yoga I practiced (my “OM” pendant was visible), which led to some interesting conversations on meditation, had just sampled and purchased an “Inner Peace” flower essence, and was feeling fairly mellow when I was waylaid at another booth.
A white-haired retired gentleman stepped forward, waived at the fellow retiree next to him and declared, “this guy’s a millionaire!”
“So!” I replied, as I aligned upward from the heart through my head, and outward from my heart to the two retirees. “Studies have shown that once our basic needs are met—food, clothing, shelter, occupation, companionship—additional money and things don’t make us any happier.”
Frowning, he replied, “It sure comes in handy when we need something!”
Aligning him upward with divine intent, I replied, “but how much do you truly need, and how often is it only a want?”
The situation was rather awkward, and I needed to get back. So I Nodded in apology to the wealthy man, to whom I still hadn’t been introduced, and headed back to the soccer game.
Namaste,
Glen
Susie’s soccer team had been winning two to nothing when they called the half-time break. When Susie settled down with her water and snack, I indicated (by asking Deb if it was OK) that I was going to
visit the farmer’s market.The booths of the farmer’s market were just across the parking lot from the soccer fields, and this was the third time a game had coincided with the market. The market had been closing by the time the game ended the other times, so I figured half-time was a good time to check it out.
As I approached I saw it was a small, local market of about thirty to forty booths—canvas awnings supported by metal poles, sheltering folding tables that held boxes or displays of merchandise. Most of the merchandise was locally-grown “natural” and/or “organic” produce, offered by the gardener/farmers who grew it. But there were also displays of tie-dye clothing, hand-made jewelry, flower essences, and various other products.
I’d purchased some produce. Twice been asked what kind of Yoga I practiced (my “OM” pendant was visible), which led to some interesting conversations on meditation, had just sampled and purchased an “Inner Peace” flower essence, and was feeling fairly mellow when I was waylaid at another booth.
A white-haired retired gentleman stepped forward, waived at the fellow retiree next to him and declared, “this guy’s a millionaire!”
“So!” I replied, as I aligned upward from the heart through my head, and outward from my heart to the two retirees. “Studies have shown that once our basic needs are met—food, clothing, shelter, occupation, companionship—additional money and things don’t make us any happier.”
Frowning, he replied, “It sure comes in handy when we need something!”
Aligning him upward with divine intent, I replied, “but how much do you truly need, and how often is it only a want?”The situation was rather awkward, and I needed to get back. So I Nodded in apology to the wealthy man, to whom I still hadn’t been introduced, and headed back to the soccer game.
Namaste,
Glen
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