Montmartre, Gratitude, Capitalism, Corporatism, and Generally the Strange Places my Mind Takes Me

It is raining. The slippery drops run down my face. I am not afraid of the affect it makes on my intricate nervous system, the tickling. I am not afraid of the water getting in my eyes, impairing my vision slightly. I am not afraid of my skin getting wet, shoes and socks soaked, blue pants still somewhat weightless from the water. My sweat begins to become indistinguishable from the rain drops. I read a buddhist affirmation today on the desk in our small studio. It is in French, but what I got from it is that every day is precious, life is precious. If it were not precious, I wouldn’t feel the weight and sorrow of people suffering and dying in all the places of this world. And so, even if I feel this sorrow, I can still walk with gratitude and knowing that what I am experiencing at this moment is precious. And the rain, wow, somehow I always feel most alive in the water.

Running Montmartre is special in the rain. A rainy Thursday morning in November means less tourists crowding the charming cobblestone roads. Umbrellas, however, can be a problem. If I were not so tall, I might have had an eye poked out a couple of times. I wind my way around the roads and let my body respond to the information of people coming in different directions, cars trying to make their way through, and the uneven slipperiness of the stone underneath my feet. I focus on breathing and letting my shoulders relax. My body does the work, knowing, gathering information, researching the space, and producing the medicine it needs at the same time.

I run by the painters standing in the rain, their easels underneath umbrellas, trying to make a livelihood even in the damp morning, and I realize that as often as I have climbed up the steep slopes of Montmartre, the only thing that I have spent money on was a postcard. I do not participate in the commerce, neither selling nor buying. I am only a witnesser, an observer taking advantage of the streets laid out before me, the pathways, the view, the warm cheery feeling of people, and the spacious peak giving breathing room above Paris. What does it mean? Am I only taking? And why do I think self-worth is wrapped up in commerce?

In my post about capitalism, I asked, “is it a bad thing to pay an artisan what they’re worth?” And I realized that I was equating self-worth with money. But is an artisan’s work, her? It is easy to associate self-worth with the money we make, the notoriety we receive, the appraisal and approval of others. And of course, there is the livelihood aspect of this. We must all earn a living in order to survive. So how do we disassociate self-worth from money?

I also must explain what I meant about totalitarianism in that same post; we know that totalitarianism is where the state holds all power and control over what we do in our lives. Capitalism is supposed to be the exact opposite and in the early 20th century, the fascists were responding to the communist totalitarian politics. Benito Mussolini said, "Fascism should more properly be called corporatism because it is the merger of state and corporate power." Okay, well I fail to see how fascism is too different from totalitarianism when both are forms of despotism. Today we have large corporate conglomerates ruling the world, an outcome of capitalism or unregulated capitalism, I don't know. But they decide what is in fashion, what television programs to watch, what music will be popular, what we will eat. In other words, even though we think we have a choice, we don't really. Those of us that have access to a car think we can drive where ever we want to because we have the freedom of a car, but the roads have been previously mapped out for us. Those that can afford to shop at Whole Foods, think we have a choice because we can buy products that were grown, bought, shipped, and sold responsibly. Out of 7,500 varieties of apples grown in the world, only 100 are grown commercially in the U.S. and we have maybe 15 to choose from at the super market, maybe, if we go to Berkeley Bowl. Everything is mapped out for us. And grown, brought, shipped, and sold responsibly, I don't think so. And those that do not have access to these options are still being sold that they have a choice because our lovely culture industry perpetuates this idea of American individualism. We, the great individual (oh paradox, oh paradox!) think we have the choice of individuality, but really we are buying sameness and at the end of the day, it is "we the people," that are being shaped, cranked, and stamped on the conveyor belt.

I feel grateful to run in the rain today. It feels unhindered by the weight of financial exchange. But, when I run, my mind takes me to places and I begin to ask what I am doing here. What is my exchange with this place? And do I always need to look at exchange from a Marxist viewpoint? And so I return to previous posts that I have made. How did I go from the gratitude of running in rain spattered Montmartre to American individualism? I'm not sure.