As this is to be the last official post of the year, we thought we’d leave you with some thoughts from our Slow Money guru, author and “nurture capitalist” Woody Tasch (Inquiries into the Nature of Slow Money: Investing as if Food, Farms, and Fertility Mattered). Guest-blogging at Powells.com this week, Woody Tasch goes John Lennon, imagining a world where we choose “soil over oil,” and where “no economic rabbit never” needs “to be pulled out of no hat.”
Let us imagine an earthworm protesting before the advancing blade of the plow.
Let us imagine a farmer conscientiously objecting before the commodifying prow of the market.
Let us imagine a poet slamming before the ferociously fiduciary lowest-common-denominatorness of the Dow.
Let us imagine a consumer putting down the purse.
Let us imagine a thrower-outer choosing better over worse.
Let us imagine Carlo in the Piemonte sipping Nebbiolo.
Let us imagine Fritz breaking bread with Wendell.
Let us imagine money swimming up the Mattole to spawn.
Let us imagine a sycophant with no one over whom to fawn.
Let us imagine a broker who has given up his pawn.
Let us imagine an Obama tending vegetables on the White House lawn.
Let us imagine an Osama genuflecting towards the dawn of non-violence.
Let us imagine that Wall Street is Plato’s cave.
Let us imagine that the wave of toxics is receding.
Let us imagine that the global fever is breaking.
Let us imagine a beautiful future of our making.
Let us imagine preservation and restoration over consumption and extraction.
Let us imagine percolation over circulation.
Let us imagine relationship over transaction.
Let us imagine diversity over monoculture.
Let us imagine fertility over profitability.
Let us imagine making a living over making a killing.
Let us imagine a carrot in the hand over a futures contract in the bush.
Let us imagine the horse before the cart.
Let us imagine home over house.
Let us imagine soil over oil.
Let us imagine neither fundamentalism nor befuddlement.
Let us imagine a bumper sticker that is better than, “My karma ran over your dogma.”
Let us imagine the opposite of colony collapse disorder.
Let us imagine first the ends of philanthropy and then the end of philanthropy.
Let us imagine money as a healing agent.
Let us imagine something called nurture capital. (And let us imagine that it becomes as recognizable as, but far more ubiquitous than, its industrial strength cousin, venture capital. Where is its “non-Silicon Valley?” Madison? Bellingham? Pioneer Valley? Capay Valley? Organic Valley? Hardwick? The boys in Las Trampas? Butterworks Farm? Four Season Farm? Swanton Berry Farm? The White Dog Cafe? The Kitchen? The Guerilla Cafe? Urban gardens? 2,000 CSAs and 5,000 farmers markets? 10,000 edible schoolyards? 100,000 green roofs?)
Let us imagine our pension funds in the hands of individuals who have taken to heart the words, “A man is wealthy to the extent he can afford to leave things alone.” (Proceed to your Walden.)
And remember, you only get one life—don’t squander one leap second of it!