For the winter issue of Hopezine, Erica asks STEVIE SHAW, a former monk, what his money tips are. In his philosophical article here, he reveals all…
“MONEY DOESN’T GROW ON TREES!”
By Stevie Shaw
“You need to buck your ideas up sonny Jim,” shouted Father. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know!” My father always the practical realist.
Stephen didn’t respond to the harsh reality check of his Father. He was afraid to challenge his Father’s authority, but in his heart he held his conviction that nature had real value whilst money did not. In his mind he said to himself; “No Father, but apples do and you can eat them. What use is money anyway, it’s just pieces of metal and bits of paper.” Stephen knew well the words of Chief Seattle when he condemned the greed of the White Man; “Only when the last tree is dead, only when the last buffalo killed and only when the last river is poisoned will you realise that you cannot eat money.”
“You want to study philosophy?! What job will you get with that?” Stephen’s Father continued his barrage. Harold Leech, Stephen’s college tutor chipped in too; “Philosophy!? What will you do when you’re shacked up with a woman and child?! How will you pay the bills?!”
“I’ll be okay, I’ll find something,” said Stephen in a weak voice, his head hung low. No one was convinced that this boy knew what was good for him.
Despondent from the meeting with his parents and teachers, and filled with doubt, Stephen took his leave to find some fresh air. It was late summer or early autumn. The leaves were going crispy. Big crispy leaves everywhere. Stephen walked out past the old town walls, they were tall, maybe thirty feet high, built in medieval times and never used. Garden allotments filled a space between the town and the farmers fields where herds of cows and goats, and flocks of sheep grazed behind stock fencing. Passing through the allotments with his mind depressed, Stephen noticed a solitary old man working his plot. Alone with his thoughts Stephen wanted to mind his own business. To his utter surprise the old man called Stephen over, waving and calling. Stephen reluctantly complied. “Come and sit down,” he offered Stephen his deck chair and said, “ now have some of this buttermilk. And tell me what the matter is?” Stephen told him his worries for the future. “How will I survive?” asked Stephen.
The old man opened his Bible and showed Stephen a verse in Matthew; “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Even the pigeons get their daily bread, what to speak of the humans who are more dear to the Lord. The Lord provides for all of his creatures including the humans.
Do not worry, do not fear, do not hesitate,” said the Old Man. “Act to try and please the Lord and He will sustain you.”
This was music to my ears and just what I needed to hear. In his deck chair I had relaxed, assured to trust myself, and felt that God may have chalked my path. I gained a little confidence, and noticed my legs were stronger, less wobbly as I strode from the allotments. With the backing of the Christian man, I had the courage of my conviction, and would follow through with my desire to read philosophy. And to heaven with the consequences.
Stevie was a Hindu monk for 10 years living at an ashram on top of a hill in Scotland. He’s been married seven years to his wife Geri who has schizo-affective disorder, and together they have two beautiful daughters. He likes to speak about his experiences of being a monk, about religion, history and philosophy.
Listen to him on the Stevie Saranda Podcast, on spotify and google podcasts
