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what money really means and how to get rich_49

Author: what money really means and how to get rich

I read over Joel's e-mail several times. It's in a tiny box on the corner

of my computer screen. My Imagination pictures the Mexican village, on

a small bay dotted with boats. He sees the red Spanish tile roofs of the

homes that wind along the tiny roads. He sees a shirtless young, bronzed

Mexican fisherman wearing pale, yellowed linen pants, espadrilles, and a

straw hat. He sees this young man standing on a dock, speaking with a man

almost twice his age. The older man—this investment banker—is dressed

in Docker shorts, Nike sneakers, and a polo shirt.The man is wearing large,

black sunglasses. The Mexican is squinting. My Imagination pictures their

body language. The investment banker: chest forward, shoulders high, his

chin creeping more and more past his toes as his neck stretches, emphasizing

his speech. The young Mexican: resting back on his heels, arms

folded over his chest, his sternum pulling farther and farther away from the

investment banker.

My Imagination wonders whether the investment banker gets it, whether he

understands how ridiculously circular his plan is—his life is. He sees the

frustration in the investment banker. He figures the investment banker chalks up

the lack of enthusiasm to laziness, to stupidity. My Imagination has the banker

storming away,maybe lighting a cigar halfway around the U-shaped bay. He sees

the Mexican just staring at the banker as he lights the cigar and, perhaps, even

talks on a mobile phone. My Imagination sees a young Mexican boy run over

to the fisherman and take his hand. The fisherman and the boy head in the

opposite direction of the banker, who is now walking toward the other end of

the U.The boy and the fisherman don't look over at the banker, and he doesn't

look back at them. They seem to have forgotten about each other, as if their

conversation never existed.They just couldn't understand what money meant to

the other.

Dialogue: Me and My Imagination

"We seem to have taken a turn."

"Be brief, I want to move on with things."

"It's more about you now, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm more empowered by this knowledge, these stories, these experiences.

It's you who's being diminished."

"In what way?"

"The more you experience what I imagine, the less hope there seems to

be for any other life than the one you are leading."

"Yes, escapism doesn't seem to work so well."

"I can keep imagining new places, new things, new wants, hopes, dreams,

desires. But if you know them to be false, I'll have wasted my time

and effort. You'll get depressed."

"The pursuit of affluence, you're saying, will squelch me more than you."

"From what little you've read, I imagine that to be the case.

"Let's see."


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