I know books often sweep me away, but the first two parts of Sacred Economics are like walking into the ocean in Hawaii. The water is warm, the sun is warm, the sand is warm, you are warm. Everything is perfect. That’s how reading this book feels to my brain and body: Sacred Economics: Money, Gift and Society in the Age of Transition, Revised. I don’t fight the author on anything–ever. Not one thing have I questioned. And it’s not because he is a stunning writer. He is that.
But it is entirely my worldview. He writes that the book aims “to make money and human economy as sacred as everything else in the universe.”
More Nuggets
He talks about the oppressiveness of private property, but he also says that socialism has similar bureaucratic structures to capitalism. He thinks making money off of money (aka interest) is criminal. I hate doing that too, so I donate a great deal every year.
I love this book so much that I’m not even in love with or idolizing the author. All I have in my heart is gratitude and profound joy and comfort in knowing I’m not alone.
Usually, I turn reading itself into some form of acquisition I’m realizing, because reading this book I’m just like, do I need to read anything ever again?
He even gets into royalties as problematic to the writing process, with which I also agree.
I don’t even think of him as my soulmate because that would objectify my gratitude. His thinking is like putting on a glove for me.
He critiques the death of the British commons and the rise of currency but also is against violent revolution and acknowledges human failing in everyone and not just white people. He’s not a rigid writer—a lot of social justice writers are rigid.
The Tone and Atmosphere
I wouldn’t call him a social justice writer but rather a rigorous, yet warm, ethicist—but not in a dogmatic way, and, yet, not as a matter of conviction either. His writing lacks ego, but he doesn’t hide himself. He uses the word “I” and is not overly conversational (in that he doesn’t have anecdotes) but he still mentions himself sometimes.
It’s like drinking water the temperature of your body.
I don’t even have gratitude, which would be fawning. It is just a simple pleasure reading his book.
I don’t even love this man, I just receive him as the gift he is. He is a truth-teller. That’s what he is.
When people tell the truth because it’s the truth and not out of self-righteousness or imbalanced wounding, you aren’t grateful. You’re just more aware. Life becomes richer because it becomes clearer that it is a true gift. A grace even.
I Really Could Only Get into the First Two Parts
I only really relate to parts one and two of the book. The rest of the book is about the application of theory and more conjectural, while the first two parts lay out the problem. Part I of the book, “The Economics of Separation,” explains that separation is “woven into every aspect of our civilization.” Part II, “The Economics of Reunion,” talks about how our relationship with the earth needs to shift to that of a lover so we can see the harm we are causing. “Our economic system and money system will no longer be agents of taking, of exploitation, of the aggrandizement of the separate self. They will instead be agents of giving, of creation, of service, and of abundance.”
Buying the book for just for its first two parts is thoroughly worth it. Maybe the theory later on will be relatable. I don’t like it. But I do love the first two parts of the book so very much.
