Value

Main Entry: [2]value
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): val·ued; val·u·ing
Date: 15th century
1 a : to estimate or assign the monetary worth of : APPRAISE <value a necklace> b : to rate or scale in usefulness, importance, or general worth : EVALUATE
2 : to consider or rate highly : PRIZE, ESTEEM <values your opinion> 
    

   Recently I was posed with the perplexing issue of providing someone, something of value. The more I thought about the entire concept of "value" the more frustrated I became.
        I realized as I wandered about my home how little I hold things of value. I realized how little I put into material things and how I disregard them without much thought. I have cheap things throughout my home, I have expensive things about my home, little things, big things......but thats just it. They are all just things that clutter up whats important to me. Monetary value is insignificant to me and my world.
       Sentimental value, now this is something I can relate too. Things with meaning, things that are relevant to both my heart and my soul. These are the things I cannot part with. Value is found in things on my plateau of the world, that have no significant monetary value. 
        It is with this thought, that I question whether the things I hold of value, would be in turn, of any value to another person.
       It's interesting, I used to hold things, material things, as a token of status, an achievement of sorts. I used to dream of having the money to buy this....or that. The thoughts of I wish I had, or if only I could buy.......There were times in my life where money was so scarce I could barely afford food, much less nice furniture or expensive beds. Those were the time's I relied on my writing, reading borrowed books, making things, creating, to fill what I thought was a void. I remember during those times I had seen a journal. A very special journal. My heart went out to it and I just knew I wanted it. Leather, with inscriptions engraved beautifully across the front. Replaceable inside writing book. Beautiful, and also $55 dollars. I knew there was no way I could ever find a way to purchase it.
       But someone knew I loved it, and purchased it for me, a gift. The value was not in the $55 dollars, the value was in someone else's desire to bring a smile to my face. The value has evolved into my love of this journal, for it is the one that is never far from my grasp. I can afford one of these journals now, and yet, have never had the desire to purchase one. The meaning would be worthless, the value just 55 dollars.
       I have lost a few things that I valued, priceless things, that even now in my mind can never be replaced. As I mentioned in my entry The gift behind my Legacy, my father had given me a buck knife with my initials on it when I was very young. It was priceless and somehow I carelessly lost it on a mountainside in my early twenties. I was devastated and while in the outdoors, I was lost without it. A Christmas after that, my father replaced it with another and I have cherished and protected this one with a tenacious mother bear hold.
       I have had two pennants given to me, one an amethyst, and one a diamond. Both valued not because of the monetary value, but cherished because they were gifts from two very special men. I wore them both religiously close to my heart, I regarded them both as my comfort and a blessing, and they both slipped away. One mysteriously, the amethyst, and one right before my eye's into the depth of a river, the diamond.
       If they were to be lost, it seemed fitting the one would disappear mystically, for the amethyst and it's healing power were mystical and a mystery to me. Although I haven't forgiven the river for taking something so precious from me, it seems fitting that the river would swallow my diamond away. At the river, I was there, as half of a whole, and it was a poetic reminder.
       The things I value, if reduced to tangible items, are few. I thought of the age old question, if your house was burning down what would you save if you only could carry an armful. (humans and pets aside) I see now, it would be my journals for my memories and thoughts are valued, if only in the illusion of my mind. My memory envelopes to my children, two empty necklaces, a knife and a special group of keepsakes I love, all things given to me with love from others. I think I could let the rest go. Ok, one more thing, one item, I actually purchased myself, my flyrod. For it's significance is remarkable, in my world of perception..............
     How is value perceived, described, defined? How is it weighed between two people, the giver and the taker? How much thought did we all put into a present of value during the holidays? Did we give what would be cherished or just useful? 
       I know there is nothing I value more then something I cannot procure myself. Whether it be handmade, created, the gift of written thought and of course something given from the heart.

        So I look to the right and I look to the left and find myself in strange waters. For if I am to reduce myself, or a gift, to a measure of value because I dearly want to make a person smile....... Would the recipient be satisfied, nullified, grateful, or mystified.      

As always, just a thought.....................