Damned Hippies!! (On Values and Principles)

A few years ago, I found myself in a debate with a man who was adamant about the fact that no one should pick up hitchhikers because they are users and are giving nothing back to society. He went into great detail about how he, a normal American citizen, was working his forty plus hours a week, paying taxes, and buying gas. That gas had a tax which helped to maintain these roads that we are driving upon and that those damned hippies hitchhiking on those roads were not contributing at all to their upkeep - leaving more for him to carry.

Now this offended me at the time although I also could feel his deep anguish about being so trapped, but my thinking on this subject was not clear enough to have offered an effective rebuttal. I pointed out that he was driving in that direction anyway and they were not really adding to the gas burden by much at all - most of it being used in transporting the tons of metal and not the meaty creatures of considerably less weight within. But to him it was a "principle" question and there really was no arguing with that.

Over the years, this has gnawed at me, as unanswered questions often do, and recently I've been thinking on this again, being now on the verge of planned homelessness and joblessness. I would likely get a pass because of my savings and the fact that at some point along the path I was "paying my way" but the whole experiment has me thinking more deeply about this issue. And I think I've reached some conclusions.

I think this is a question of value, more than of principle. Our culture values one thing above all else and that is the thing that has the least intrinsic value: money. It's at best an artistic rendering upon which we bestow some sort of magical power and value of exchange. No one really believes anymore that it is a stand in for something of any real value. And even when dollars stood for coins and coins were actually made of gold and silver, the "value" of those metals was only in the fact that they didn't rust and were considered beautiful because of it. They weren't strong metals that could be used to make tools - they were beautiful things that wouldn't die. Our understanding of value is always based in these sort of fantasies instead of in the real worth of things.

In our world, what we consider to be of value almost always links to money. We give lip-service to valuing our teachers, farmers, mothers, firefighters, etc. But far more of us would shudder more thinking of our children marrying a teacher or a farmer than a stock broker - someone who arguably adds the least real value to the world. Something is askew and if we don't look at it, it's just going to get more surreal and seem more normal at every step.

So back to my friend who was angry with those damned hippies, wasting their lives and taking from other people. I sort of understood where he was coming from then - I, too, was working hard and paying my taxes and the thought of these people not having to do that and still being able to be mobile, to live and love, kinda irked me - this was jealousy, of course, and that's the point. It seemed so unfair that I was trapped in a sort of slavery to my principles - principles it took me a long time to identify as not actually being mine. Principles, it could be argued, that were instilled in me precisely to keep me from questioning my position in a machine of slavery that failed to feed me or anyone I knew what we needed to live a fulfilling life. And what exactly is this machine producing? What value are we all adding in a larger sense? When I think in these terms, the guy with his thumb out at least has the value of not raping and pillaging as much as those of us buying into a consumer culture that is wedded to slavery at some point in its production.

I think I have an answer now to this man: as I embark on my new journey, I am questioning my value in relation to my value at other times in my life when I worked for corporations, pushed papers and labeled codes so people could file them appropriately, when I drove forty miles to and from work every day, and felt the need to shop at malls that sold objects I didn't need made by people so poor they couldn't turn down slave wages or they would risk starvation, so that I could scurry to keep abreast of the made up world of fashion and "cool" and "cutting edge", to keep from looking out of place in the conforming world that I thought was my only choice. I am comparing the value I added then, to the value I am adding now to the world - holding swap meets where people find treasures, eat and create good food with friends, listen to and engage fully with other people. I'm noticing the satisfying value I am adding in spending actual time with my son and ensuring that he grows to be a decent man, who knows he is loved and cherished, or time with my friends and neighbors - time weeding a garden that will feed the hungry and homeless - those who didn't choose it as I have. I'm building art, for free, and giving it as a gift to the world. I'm creating beauty and perhaps some pause to think. If I do it right, I may end up creating a portal for people to enter into their own dreams for their future, and the future of the rest of the world - to think about their own choices. I won't be making money - so I have no way to quantify my value. No way to explain myself or my actions.

But maybe this is the point - to walk away from the need to explain ourselves. To recognize finally that this action has no value at all. If we all stopped keeping track - I wonder what we would produce. If we began to think in terms of quality of production instead of quantity, I wonder how our world would be different. So I plan on picking up all the damned hippies I meet - giving them a lift if I'm going their way - and dedicating myself to finding the value that they do add, and since I know I can't quantify it, I'm going to sing their stories so that their value is recognized, so all our value is recognized.

If this type of thinking makes you uncomfortable, don't worry. It's easy to dismiss these thoughts with a simple label - I'm a damned hippie and so my words hold little value - no one's paying me for them, so what could they possibly be worth?