Indelible

It is a big week for the Redline Project. Large-scale philosophical ideas are coming into view as the autobiographical explorations continue, while technical discoveries of advanced editing tools bring momentum and shape to specific challenges of the project.

Pressing ahead in the goal of answering seven important questions (see the post entitled Conceptualizing), I am tackling one tonight upon which all of life should hinge.

Question number five:
What do I think has lasting worth or value

Perhaps an easier entry point would be the opposite question: What has no lasting worth or value? Starting there, I can think of a few points worth discussing.

Money, and most possessions for that matter, have no lasting value. When we finally connect with the ground under our tombstones, our collected wealth and belongings will mean absolutely nothing. Even before the day of our ultimate demise, those shiny trinkets for which we pine so strongly have a way of losing their luster as moths pick at finer details and rust nibbles on fit and finish. Regardless of how much or little I concern myself with the contents of a savings account, I have not spent a moment of my life desperately hungry or thirsty. Regardless of my income tax bracket, I am in actuality extremely wealthy with scores of decadent comforts fleecing my privileged existence.

It is surprising how much attention most pay to the earning of wealth when so much of the concept is entirely intangible. My wife and I do not have investments beyond a few scattered dimes, so the economic downturn has not deeply invaded our sense of security. The falling stock market did however spin many people I know into somewhat of a depression. As relatives and friends watched their portfolio vanish, there was terrific groaning and lament - interesting to me because not one of these people have needed to alter their lifestyles in drastic ways. Those with fine tastes still shop at the gourmet grocer, and those with hobbies still acquire supplies and devote hours to their craft. No one has moved to a smaller house, gone without heat, or even reduced the amount of vacation they take. There was no actual loss, only a perception of something slipping away.

Money is often no more than a few numbers that appear in the back of a book of checks, or hidden behind a login screen at a bank's website. People who obtained a set of numbers maybe now find one less hiding under the bottom line of their account. While worked up over the loss of a numeral (and a comma in some cases), the development actually yields little or no change in everyday life.

Three years ago I purchased a gleaming silver machine laden with digital bells and techno-whistles, a Macintosh G5 with dual 2.0 processors and 4 gigabytes of memory. I recall bringing home the 40 pound box of computing bliss, howling shouts of glee as it effortlessly performed challenging actions with lightening speed. Graphic design nirvana.

Now three years later, the specifications are acceptable but raise no eyebrows. I have been holding a budget in one hand and a calendar in the other, calculating when the next marvel of technology will perch atop my desk sending shivers down my materialistic spine afresh.

New becomes old, varnish wears thin, clean gives way to dusty, and on it goes. Most of everything we plot to acquire slips away and leaves us wanting more... often much more.

What is worth our time then? Where should we fix our gaze?

Relationships - that is all we really have. When someone expires, the only people who care how much money they acquired in their lifetime are the benefactors of their estate. Everyone else cares about the effect this person had on the lives of others.

In a conflict between the pursuit of a career and the quality of a relationship with a spouse or family members, the relationships must win. No question. Living life well means caring deeply for those around us and learning to accept their care in return. If everyone took this idea seriously, we would not need government assistance programs, or economic bailouts, or even locks on our doors. Idealistic? Definitely, but still a concept worth exploring and implementing as much as possible.

Life's most precious moments are often marked by wonder or magnificence. Maybe it is the grandeur of a mountaintop sunset that invigorates the soul, or perhaps it is a caring word aptly spoken in a time of sorrow. These snapshots, and many others like them, are nothing short of the art of life. It is these instances of beauty that bring refreshment to our inner beings and keep us yearning for more.

Art in all of its forms searches vigorously for the stunning anomalies of life, aiming to capture them on its canvas of choice. The project blog you are reading is at its core a quest to pepper life's routines with specks of emotion and beauty. These snapshots of vitality have value beyond the brevity of their existences, and I believe deeply that creative expressions in many forms are worth our time and effort.

Beyond anything we can do, say, touch, taste, hear, or otherwise experience, there is love. From the romantic to the compassionate, loving friendships are life-giving beyond anything I know. I never wish to be a lone musician lurking in a dark corner, honing my craft in isolation. It is the support of friends like Margaret, Danny, Peter, Heather, Tim, Sunita, David, Eric, Jacob, Joshua, Ian, Ruthie, Grace, Charles, Rob, Kim, Joann, Kyung, Alex, Orlin, Sandy, Elliot, Karen, Jackie, and Libby that inspire me to keep plodding on, both here and in my other endeavors.

Shouting love out loud to all of you.