One of the sustained criticism of my current lifestyle by those in my personal inner circle is that renting is not a smart financial decision. “A mortgage makes more sense,” they say: “buying and owning something, or working towards “having” the place you’re living in is better than pouring money down the drain every month. You could have invested the money,” they admonish; “now all you have done is made your landlord rich and yourself poor. All those years spent working and paying bills and running around, with nothing tangible to show for it. Poor, unwise naïve young professional!”
I get it, I get it. But not really.
They seem to forget that, in the meantime, I live there. I have a space, however small or temporary or expensive, to call my own for now, space to sit, dream, cry , laugh, read, and exist in this mad and beautiful world. A shelter to sleep in with decent comfort, security, and privacy. I am investing in the development of personal taste, in peace and quiet, in the freedom of thought and emotion that is found in solitude.
Dad raised me with two main money maxims. First, there is no free lunch; second, never spend more than you have. Early on I learned to work for what I wanted, to not expect others to foot the bill, and to not borrow from the future. Such have become principles I have been living out more and more the older I get, a way of life that builds confidence, self-respect, and determination like nothing else.
“I want to take the calculated risk;
To dream and to build.
To fail and to succeed.
I refuse to barter incentive for a dole;
I prefer the challenges of life
To the guaranteed existence;
The thrill of fulfillment
To the stale calm of Utopia.
I will not trade freedom for beneficence
Nor my dignity for a handout“
— Dean Alfange, “My Creed” —
I am proud I both know what I want in life and how I want to go after it. I am humble knowing I have much to learn; I did not get here solely by my own brain and brawn; every once in a while I might be brought low when Life throws a right hook at my head without explanation, warning, or mercy.
We only get to play the hand we have been dealt, first with borrowed wisdom, then with earned understanding, and finally with the gentle realization that winning was never the point…
Over the past few years as mistakes shaped and clarified my thinking, I added a third financial principle to my dad’s list: Make more than you consume. The total existing value is to be increased, not just used or exchanged or bickered over.
I am still upgrading my surroundings, schedules, and stuffs to what I consider “bare minimum” according to standards of beauty, stewardship, and quality. They are quite imperfectly lived-out at the moment; the finish line moves with each step forward; I speak of order but chaos is often more prominent in my day-to-day.
My grandma says that one thing she is happy for me in this lifestage of “living on one’s own” is that I am finally learning the value of money. But it goes much further than that.
I am learning about the tax that every decision, taken or not taken, costs a person. A messy schedule costs your peace of mind. Living out your own beliefs costs alienation and criticism. Being a beginner in public costs your ego. Not aligning your values with what you say or do costs you your self-respect. Choosing comfort over growth costs you joys you might have experienced and pain you could have avoided. Chasing shiny new glitter over boring old gold costs you wasted time and energy. The list goes on.
We pay the full price for the tangible and intangible things we have — whether or not we feel the pang of it, whether we are praised or derided for our decisions, whether we are able to afford it or not. Owning something comes with its own continual payments as well — for a house that may be maintenance, utilities, property tax, and such. Purchasing something is not the only time you pay for it.
From this perspective then, things in one’s life vary in levels of ownership and price, or of control and responsibility over a thing in proportion to what you are exchanging for it.
Thus my current conclusion: If death is optional, ownership makes sense. Otherwise, pay-as-you-use might be a better bet for this version of reality.
Now, that depends on what you want out of the bargain thou. If you want to be the landlord, owning the house is probably a good idea. If leaving financial assets behind for your children is a core goal, a piece of property might be a worthy investment.
But for a single twenty-something who cares more about what she does than what she has and is aware that there are no guaranteed tomorrows, renting a place now for the reasons stated earlier, instead of saving up for a decade while life and exploration and self-development remain in limbo, seems more attractive and more sensible.
By the way, the universe does give you what you want without you asking for it, sometimes. Being worthy and prepared to accept it is one thing. There is, however, still a price tag attached to those things too — it may be less pronounced and perhaps a little lower than what you expected, but it still is there, and it demands to be paid.
* I have a feeling I would probably disagree with myself on this one for a decade or two starting in my late thirties, but probably for not much longer than that. Or maybe this viewpoint is entirely dependent on my having a long-term partner…then again, maybe not.