You only die once

Chapter 5 Our precious possessions

Chapter 5

Our precious possessions

In an ideal world, no one needs to steal. No one should be hungry. No one should be homeless. Unless they choose to be.

Some of us are super fortunate to be blessed with wealth. There is a Chinese saying that wealth doesn't last three generations. The first generation works extremely hard and harvests the wealth. The second works, but not as dedicated or hard, and enjoys the fruits of the wealth. The last works less and spends or wastes it all. And the cycle begins again.

This is probably true, not only in Chinese culture, but in most cultures. Thus, trust funds are made to preserve the wealth. But does that educate the future generations of their value?

Wealth or money is a funny thing. Once we have an asset, we tend to hold on to it feverishly. Why? Human nature?

During my younger school days, I joined the army cadets (yes, I wanted to shoot and fight, not save lives). I was good at what I did. I even won a trophy in a shooting competition. I was cycling in the next neighbourhood going house to house to inform my group of cadets that we had an unscheduled training the next day for an urgent parade the following week. It was a hot afternoon to cycle. I was tired and sweating profusely, having done like 15 houses. Another few more to go.

Out of nowhere, three boys jumped me. They were larger than me. Two of them grabbed my bicycle handles and one jumped behind me onto my bicycle carrier. They shouted at me to release my bicycle. This was obviously a robbery attempt. The next thing was a blur. I just saw red literally. A field of red. As it slowly faded, I had already knocked the two in front of me down. Jerking back my elbow, the boy behind me fell. The sea of red was fading and I was standing with my back against a car and facing the three of them. They had picked themselves up. One of them punched me twice but I hardly flinched. I had both my hands up guarding my face. They shouted something and turned towards my bicycle. I rushed to hold on to it. I was not giving up without a fight. In the corner of my eye, I saw people inside the nearest house. I shouted, and as the occupants came to see what the commotion was, the three of them pedalled away on two bicycles.

That day, I survived a robbery. I didn't lose my bicycle. In my younger proud days, I guess I was stupid enough not to be frightened. Today, I would advise myself differently and would have given them the bicycle without much of a fight. Or so I would assume. When anger overcame me, all I saw was a sea of RED. Nothing else. This has happened to me three times in my 58 years of life. You lose control and an animal takes over. It is dangerous as I stop thinking. Only act. The very basic instinct of 'fight or flee'. The ending of this story could be 'I died because they were armed.' Why instinctively wouldn't I give up my bicycle?

Human nature is hard to explain. We guard our possessions with our lives as if it is life itself. Maybe in nature, we protect our young and food. Animals fight and die over food. Maybe from the protection of food, we then instinctively feel the compulsion extends to all our worldly possessions.

So much so that when we accumulate possessions, we spend so much time gathering them and finding means to guard them, that we lose sight of their value and meaning. What is the point of having billions and spending almost every waking hour thinking how to keep it, spend it, and invest it while ensuring no one steals or cheats it from you? The real irony of it. We forget to live. And with the money, we buy the most expensive car, the most expensive house, the aeroplane, the yacht, and on and on. One seems never to be enough. Buy two, then three, then...

And yet others have not. The money or means...

There is a story I read, I think in Readers' Digest. I wonder if it still exists.

A rich American would return to his hometown once a month. He had homes in New York and Hawaii, and a ranch in his hometown. He loved to ride his horses and gets to do that once a month. His long-time friend from school was his foreman at the ranch. In their younger days, they would go on their horses almost every week and enjoy the fresh air and smell of grass. But with his business empire grown so much larger, he didn't have the time and even brought work with him when he was at the ranch. So, who has a richer life? The businessman or his hired foreman...?