Eudaimona in Greek can be translated as "happiness," as in the pursuit thereof; or, it can be translated as "human flourishing." The Greeks had a saying, "Call no man happy until he is dead." Clearly they were talking about more than a mood, more than what a pill could evoke. Eudaimonia is a term of last resort. A founding term. So are Markets. When we look out at the world around us some see a Market. A social capital market. Everything else can fit in that picture. Ameya Preserve is a Community of Conscience where Culture Meets Nature, the houses sell for $2.3 million, and winners of Genius Grants walk the grounds like prize peacocks or like Castrati in an Italian Opera. That is the good life, the life well lived, as seen by a 28 year old liberal arts grad at Porter Novelli writing what she must know is a line of bullshit that will either snow Wade Dokken, or that Wade will see through but understands will snow the vulgar rich as they page through the Neiman Marcus Christmas Fantasy Book. Every term you can possibly want is harmonized: Nature, Culture, Venture, Virtue, Profit, Community, Conscience, Genius. And it is all bullshit as a local Montana blog says.
This is what happens when we look at the world using as our term of last resort, our lens, our system of explanation, and our point of purchase, "Markets." We know that we can purchase the 28 year old cubicle dweller's bullshit from Porter Novelli, and we can purchase the land in the wilderness, and we can add one to the other, rent some Geniuses, and make it all come out at a profit, while basking in glory as a Social Venture Entrepreneur.
But will we have human flourishing? Or, will we have simply let our disease, the disease of the body politic, the disease of markets metastasize?
Human flourishing happens in an ecosystem,of human institutions, of markets, of nonprofits, of laws, of literary, religious , ethical, and philosophical traditions, functioning within a fragile, natural ecosystem, of which our own biology is itself a part.
The Happy Tutor, in my recent conversations with him, said, "In any therapy of the soul, Phil, there are cases terminable and interminable. There are some souls we cannot cure, as a practical matter. But if Porter Novelli or Wade Dokken want a Moral Physician for their Residents at Ameya Preserve, I would be willing to set up a Medical Scene Room, in a Dedicated Branch of Wealth Bond* age pro bono publico. There, as in an Ameya Triage Unit, I would do what I could, Resident by Resident, to save as many souls as I can. Even on the cross one of the thieves was saved. But such suffering in extremis is sometimes what it takes to find true happiness. We find ourselves in 'brokenness and surrender.' As a good physician, I will not write Wade and the lapsed liberal arts majors at Porter Novelli off until the very moment of their physical death. Who am I to pull the plug? The holy spirit moves even in those market-driven creatures whose faces are full of wounded vanity and rage. The cure is therapeutic speech (pharmakon, meaning both medicine and poison) such as I administer here, in carefully metered doses, not to hurt but to heal. Out of such strenuous dialog (dia-logos) or shared understanding comes metanoia and new life. Metanoia means mind shift in Greek, but is translated in the Bible as 'repentance.' We are all sinners here. There is nothing that Porter Novelli or Wade Dokken have done that I have not done, worse and for less money. We are all Pimps and Whores, Dominants and Submissives, in the great hierarchy of wealth and power that we call Wealth Bond*age. Come, Wade, and the whole Porter Novelli Team, let us kneel here, by this Dumpster full of garbage, signifying our common mortality where Nature meets Culture in a Community of Conscience, on the way to the Town Dump. Let us humbly confess our sins, ask forgiveness, do our penance, and pledge to sin no more, that our souls might be healed."
I found Tutor's whole approach grotesque, not to say counter-productive. Wade is an ideal client for Values-Based Philanthropy Planning. I would not tick him off like that by finding fault. His immortal soul is his problem. Let's see if we can get some of his money. An extra million or two would sure make me happy.
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