Trinkets in a Hollow Shell

What is value? What does it mean to be worth something?

My sociology professor once told us a story about a woman who made an exquisite woven blanket, in today’s market worth at least $1000. She took it to the trading post and said, “buy this for $231.58,” so the store manager did. The $231.58 was what the woman owed on her mortgage. To her, the blanket was not valued by how much someone else might want it, but by how much she needed it to be worth.

I don’t understand this very well, honestly. Values can vary so much from person to person, time to time. An old comic book is worth nothing to a mother getting rid of her child’s old toys. To a collector, the book might be a first edition with a signature, and therefore priceless. To such a collector, the monetary value is how much he is willing to pay to have a piece for his collection. The value is based upon how much he wants it, which is much higher than the amount that the mother cleaning up garbage wants it.

Something has value only if someone wants it. The most priceless treasure could become worthless if no one wanted it. Values are arbitrary. Gold is valuable, but it wouldn’t be if no one wanted it. Many a profiteer has been confounded by value dropping out of certain commodities because no one wants them.

Are people commodities too? Do people become worthless if no one wants them?

What if I don’t want myself?

Perhaps this is why self-esteem is so important. For some reason, we all want to be wanted. But there are times when it seems that no one wants us. There are times when I don’t even want myself. I feel worthless. What’s the point of keeping something that is worthless? Why take care of it? Am I just waiting for someone else to come along and value me?

But if I want myself, then I am valuable. If there is someone out there who wants me, then I am not worthless. I may not be worth much, but I am worth something. Just like all those ticket stubs that are in a shoebox under my bed; they are garbage, but they have value to me, so I keep them. I have value to me, so I keep me.

It’s not enough some days, though, to want myself. Sometimes it’s impossible to want myself. Sometimes I’m not good enough. Sometimes I cannot see the worth in me.

Perhaps that’s why I need a god.