Things We Miss Out On If We Are Just Chasing Money

This life, a dreadful thing for the group who form the lower portion of living—income and standard of living. But that’s just been coined for us to believe in. There is a greater misconception, that lower income is equivalent to decreased happiness and ultimately a stressed style of living.

What’s compounding is—the ones on top class who always get to define the parameters. But life, even if the world were to end today—nothing of the definitive ‘paper’ would delimit us at the hour. We have just been casually driven, up to the point where the connectedness with the capital world is superior, at least that’s what we have been compelled into believing.

But the definition of each breath we take, and for the world to make sense, one is obligated to something that is much bigger than any ‘paper’ could just buy. From the moment a child starts taking his first few steps—he is conditioned into believing that he is to earn and really earn a lot.

Everyone later will ask of him and continue—what do you want to become when you grow up son?

But we seem to have forgotten—that tomorrow is just a mystery, but today—nothing equates. The theory of capitalism is—for the race to multiply till the next person runs dry, and still—feed off the underprivileged if that would make them happy.

So much time is spent, and there is—but nobody to talk to. Life is getting miserable, and each penny is getting unattractive by the hour. You begin to realize, that to live was never to acquire that luminous paper—but to have known about the hands that were earning it—it’s impending worth.

It’s true that survival is difficult without money, but what’s more unsettling is that some people have substituted it with air, thinking that there is no escape, but waking up each day—hoping that they become the person they once were, unaltered by the rules of the society.

So many good things are missed, and for all that is done good to the society—acts of greediness which continue to petrify us today. Do you realize, the unexamined stanza that is to play itself, it waited for you day and night—but the rain and cloud, you ignored like it was your only option.

We forget, but it’s too late. The spiral of faultiness, each lung that is made into, and the shields made of plastic, nobody to protect.

You will come to the realization—that everything you have missed is what misses you when you are incapable of feeling. Now that hundreds of papers, never will it charm, but put red stones on your plate, the shine that is not even exquisite. These golden bars—they too will have become obsolete.

So don’t bother—for every paper will have gone, but the experiences with oneself—things which define the prettiness of this life.

-Yogesh Chandra

x