Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川 広重
Shirasuka: Shiomi Slope,
no. 33 from the series Fifty-Three Stations of the Tokaido
(Tōkaidō gojūsan tsugi)
(1847-52)

"I tolerate working harder for it than it ever seems to work for me."

Prosperity seems to exist in two distinct forms: Slippery and sticky. Sticky seems to be the more noun-like of the Prosperities. These might serve as outward manifestations of Prosperity possessed, though they can be misleading, as appearances are not always what they seem. Many of the Prosperities seem slipperier, either because they have no physical presence or because their presence simply seems far less apparent than their sticky counterparts. The art we display on our walls, and the books we so proudly exhibit on our shelves, serve as prominent examples of our sticky Prosperity. Indeed, our very home, The VillaVattaSchmaltz, represents probably the stickiest Prosperity we possess, though, yes, it sometimes seems as if The Villa possesses us more than we possess it. Either way, its presence seems inescapably sticky.

Much of The Muse and my Prosperity was never reducible to mere possessions, however grand those might appear, for our underlying Prosperity seems decidedly less sticky than art, books, or address. As a writer, I am only as prosperous, it seems, as my latest story proves me to be. Between yesterday morning and this morning, my writing talents lost their veracity, and I woke in near desperate need to demonstrate, if not quite prove, something. As a writer, I can claim Prosperity only if I am actively writing. Sure, I can display my works on my sticky shelves, but that display only confirms that I was a writer, not that I’m presently in any way a prosperous practicing one. The Muse, too, only seems in any way prosperous when she’s actively practicing her craft, for the bulk of her Prosperity seems to be found in her active engagement, not found lurking in any yesterday’s accomplishments. She’s really only as Prosperous as her current engagements allow her to feel.

Our chief Prosperities might be most properly characterized as talents, which represent no more than the possibility or potential to be prosperous. These aren’t dependent upon how huge a paycheck they produce, either, for money Prosperity only ever serves as one of its cruder forms. Much Prosperity never gets monetized, its value tending to lie more along Prosperity’s more uncountable margins. Still, not just anybody can sit themself down and write a cogent story every morning, as my Prosperity affords me to do, or walk into a meeting room and contribute great influence in deciding something significant, as The Muse’s chief talent enables her. Our Prosperities seem less tangible, though they have proven to be reliable enough to sustain us. This must be a qualifying attribute of any aspiring Prosperity. Even a Slippery Prosperity might qualify as sticky enough if it proves itself reliable enough to sustain at least its perveyor’s faith in their ability to muster it when needed. I’m a writer because of this property in the same way that The Muse identifies as a facilitator.

Even the stickiest Prosperities might also prove slippery in practice. If I owned a gold bar, its value might shift considerably, depending on the market. Recently, precious metals, the most sticky sort of Prosperity imaginable, have dramatically increased in price. Though it might seem unconscionable right now, that value could plummet in the future, rendering even specie rather slippery. The Villa has sometimes served as an anvil during the times we found ourselves underwater, thanks to the machinations of the mortgage markets, which were never in our control. That anvil sure seemed slippery then, and was slick until those markets returned to whatever passes for their senses. All Prosperities might, at root, be slippery, requiring faith to sustain their contribution. Over time, the line between secure asset and speculation has proven slipperier than conventionally imagined. Yesterday’s estate has often awakened as the next day’s mistake.

I admit that I am uncertain how I manage to produce a fresh story every morning. I confess that I don’t always awaken feeling particularly Prosperous in the fresh story idea department. I perhaps more often feel bereft, as if whatever Prosperity I’d proven to myself that I possessed yesterday had abandoned me overnight, without leaving a forwarding address. I must wade into that mess if I expect to find evidence that my Prosperity persists, since it can only exist in present practice. I fuss and feel incapable before, inevitably, or so it later seems, I stumble into something that seems workable, and it usually proves to be. That’s how my SlipperyProsperity works. It seems to work me much more than it ever works for me, and maybe that’s a key to sustaining SlipperyProsperity, Prosperity’s balance: I tolerate working harder for it than it ever seems to work for me.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Prosperity, #PureSchmaltz