Guido Reni
Charity
(ca. 1630)

"… I might reasonably thrive on a few of my more reassuring misconceptions."

Now, after thirteen weeks spent considering Prosperity, I am realizing just how immature and generally juvenile my conception of the subject had been. I remain largely ignorant of it, since simple consideration rarely yields wisdom; more likely, dissatisfaction. Confessing my ignorance probably produced no more than negative knowledge, certain aversions as opposed to mature understandings. I might be little better for the effort, though I suspect I might possess a better appreciation of the depth of my former misunderstanding. It will likely be a life’s work to recover and construct much better than I’ve already grown too accustomed to. I don’t have all that much life left now.

At least I know that my Prosperity was never my possession. It was always my responsibility to successfully steward, though, a task complicated by my relative ignorance of its substance and underlying principles. I’ve long suspected I must have been absent on the day in the fifth grade when the teacher explained Prosperity in a way that anyone could fully comprehend its nature. That instruction must have been so unremarkable to those who were present that they never thought to mention it to anyone like me, who was absent. My parents, too, might never have imagined that I hadn’t been properly inoculated, so I entered maturity lacking a key element that could have underpinned my emerging Prosperity. I believed in all the usual and customary folk wisdoms any ignorant anybody might employ to compensate for my tacit deficit. I couldn’t know what I didn’t suspect. I never really suspected that I operated at a severe deficit relative to most of my contemporaries, as if I’d innocently never learned to read.

I suppose everyone carries such silent misconceptions, amplified by the near-absolute ignorance of their existence. Most won’t even have the language to describe their deficiency, and wouldn’t be capable of describing it if their life literally depended upon them conjuring up that description. The misconception that Prosperity must be a personal possession might be the grandfather condition underlying much of the social dysfunction in this world. Nor is it necessarily a reward or justification for hoarding. It was likely never a score deciding any competition, either, though this misconception has fueled much motivation that has ultimately come to naught or less. At least it kept the game humming, as if winning might eventually sum to something. My juvenile notions fueled emotional attachments. I fell in love with possessions that inevitably betrayed me, becoming more maintenance burdens than earned rewards. The Villa owns me now that it represents this disparity between Prosperity and misconception. I permanently damaged my hearing by running a noisy sander while trying to recover the southern exterior wall. I succeeded, producing a convincing illusion of perfection from that formerly severely wounded wall. I consequently most often respond to The Muse’s questions with a “What?” Prosperity can be as deaf as a post sometimes.

Now that the Villa’s yard has fresh sod installed, I’m tied to mowing it every few days. It doesn’t maintain that crisp appearance without me contributing more effort than I bargained for. That’s one aspect of Prosperity in actual action. I sometimes ache for the times when my Prosperity came in the form of more of nothing than I currently possess. I have proven myself fully capable of growing despondent over the sorry state of my possessions, sometimes to the point of wishing my Prosperities would just fuck off and leave me in peace. I was capable of joy when I could carry all I possessed in a small backpack and an accompanying guitar case. That was the Prosperity I abandoned to seek the Prosperity that eventually found me. It both blessed and cursed me. It certainly helped me appreciate the Prosperity I lost by pursuing ever greater Prosperities. It might eventually help me assimilate some future Prosperity I couldn’t possibly anticipate from here, having missed that all-important Prosperity lecture in fifth grade and all.

I retain, even after this perhaps overlong considering series, rather naive notions of what Prosperity entails and from whence it comes. I retain my myths about it, for they reassure me that I might eventually qualify as competent. I was never once offered a stock option to ensure my fealty to any corporation, yet I seem to have accumulated more than I can successfully cope with some days. I still carry the jealousy that comes from the fundamental misconception that someone can steal my Prosperity away from me. That was the premise I held as I engaged in this inquiry, more than thirteen long, smoky summer weeks ago. I approach the end of this investigation still concerned about my personal economy, for we all have been experiencing a near-perfect storm of economic calamity. My retirement funds appear considerably less Prosperous than they did just eighteen short months ago, and none of that is due to anything I or my Prosperity tried. I will leave this inquiry wiser if not any smarter, able to acknowledge that my Prosperity was likely never once as I’d conceived it, and possibly more robust than I ever once suspected. I secretly hope to remain a juvenile in my relationship to it. If I can’t come to know what my Prosperity actually is, I might reasonably thrive on a few of my more reassuring misconceptions.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Prosperity, #PureSchmaltz