I encountered two wild ends of a spectrum of humanity last week. Together, they have compelled me into an inquiry around worth and worthiness.

First, I saw that Tesla’s Board of Directors are proposing a $1 trillion pay package for Elon Musk (yes, you read that right) at their November 6 annual meeting. It would take a typical Tesla worker almost 17.5 million years to make that kind of money.* Yet, somehow, Tesla thinks that it is appropriate remuneration for one man, to show the world how much he is worth.

Then, while reeling from this news, I saw that my friend Jordan had shared with me a beautiful video on his experience with Big Brothers Big Sisters, a voluntary program that pairs young adults with children in need of extra support. Jordan’s ‘big brother’ Bryan has seen him through many tough and beautiful times, ever since entering Jordan’s life when he was just 9 years old. And now, 30 years later, as they reflect on their experiences, they stand as a heart-touching testament to the gift of human connection. (Watch and share the video if you like!)

I asked myself, Is this the same world? Or, really, is this the same country?

Many years ago, I remember reading about an anthropological study that showed that ‘esteem’ was the single greatest predictor of societal outcomes. What was held in esteem — that is, what was given respect and admired as the most valuable quality/behavior of a human being — determined the course of that community. When the most esteemed were those who gave away their resources, generously and humbly, those societies had greater equality, stronger health and well-being, and minimal violence against women, children, and other vulnerable members of society. And, the converse valuation had the opposite result. When respect was afforded to those who hoarded their wealth, who accumulated instead of distributed, those societies exhibited greater inequality, more violence, far more sickness, and overall distress. (Sounds familiar, right?) In other words, the focus of collective reverence was the key determinant in a society’s experience of EVERYTHING.

Maybe this seems obvious when you read it now, but it really struck me when I read it then and has stayed in my consciousness ever since. And given our current events, this question of esteem — What/whom do we deem worthy? — feels like a linchpin to explore at every level of life today, from families and communities, to workplaces and schools, to media and culture-spaces everywhere.

The news about Tesla felt aligned with the news of these last many months under this political administration, and the last many decades of corporate control and rampant corruption. Out of a 40+ year series of policies and laws, the number of millionaires and billionaires have grown to hoard even more of society’s collective wealth. In the US, the richest 10 percent now own over two-thirds of the nation’s total wealth. The top 1 percent own about 31% of the total, which is just slightly less than the entire bottom 90 percent of US households combined.* That means 3.5 million people own as much as 315 million people. That is unprecedented inequality.

It got me thinking about a comment I saw recently: Greed is a disease.

On one level, I can see it so clearly. Greed is an addiction to money (and the power that comes with it). Like other addictions, it masks some kind of pain and connects to some kind of trauma; it shows up as a hungry ghost — a insatiable hollow specter that can never be filled.

Note: I first heard this term while reading Gabor Maté’s book — In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts — which explores the linkage between trauma and addiction. More recently, I learned that hungry ghosts are the demon-like creatures described in Buddhist, Taoist, Hindu, Sikh, and Jain texts, and they show up in stories all over Asia. While details may vary, in general, they are wraith-like human creatures consumed with insatiable desire, as a result of evil actions committed in their lifetimes. It’s kind of wild for me to think about how these ancestors deeply understood the sickness that comes from and leads to unlimited want. I guess humans have been dealing with this disease for a long time.

Greed, like other addictions, keeps demanding more and more (in this case, money) and there is never enough — never even a sense of enough. As with other addictions, the impact of it goes far beyond the individual addict to destroy families, communities, and environments. Indeed, the scale of harm is truly massive. It is generational devastation. And, because those addicted are surrounded by those who possess the same sickness — in this case, by living in the capitalistic world of competition, comparison, and consumption — it is nearly impossible to change. The mirror neurons keep finding their own reflections, instead of avenues for healing.

Unlike other addictions, however, this hungry ghost of greed is bolstered by a far-reaching social environment that supports and enables it — even reveres it. Alcoholics, meth-heads, heroin addicts, they are not held in esteem — but billionaires?We’re supposed to want to be one so freakin’ bad. We’re told they are smarter, they worked harder, they deserve the resources they have accumulated. Instead of seeing them as hungry ghosts — who perhaps lack an understanding of human connection, a sense of enough, or an inherent sense of dignity — they are held up as the pinnacle of human achievement. Their ‘net worth’ indicates their worthiness.

How can this disease be healed if it is held in esteem? How can we stop the hoarding and ceaseless consumption that is destroying people and planet at a speed and intensity never before seen, if acquiring money is held in such high regard?

I don’t mean to sound so black and white. Certainly, there are moments when collective admiration shifts. Not just when a story emerges of someone who secretly gave away all of their money to a meaningful cause, but also when we encounter someone who is being of service, living simply, generously caring for others, dedicating their life to the well-being of communities and the earth. Then, the veil lifts, and there is reverence for something beyond money. Worthiness is rooted in purpose, relational gifting, social benefit. It’s heartful and beautiful, like Jordan and Bryan’s story, and reminds us that this is the point of being human. The scale tips.

Well, kind of. I remember a friend of mine who said his mother would introduce him and his brother this way, “These are my sons. The elder does well. The younger does good.” It was meant to be a joke, and while he understood that, it was also hurtful to him, I think because he felt the truth about what she truly held in esteem.

Maybe the US and other parts of the world have always grappled with this question — caught between judging the wealthy as reprehensible and longing to be them, and between living a life of meaning and service and just trying to survive and make it in a money-driven society. Yet, the teeter-totter between the two esteems seems to be resulting in the detriment of the majority. If the first question that is asked in the US is ‘What do you do?’ — not as a way to gauge the level of contribution you are making to collective well-being, but to guess at how much money you make, and therefore, how much you are ‘worth’ — then, it’s clear to me where the teeter-totter is hitting the ground.

Growing up, I was told stories about Jains who, prior to British colonization, would give away all the wealth they accumulated every seven years, both to practice non-attachment and to contribute to social good. The money would go towards libraries, learning institutions, health centers, artistic enterprises, temples, etc., and once the wealth was all gone, the family would start again. It was kind of like capitalism’s nemesis: limited accumulation, widespread distribution.

What a sharp contrast to what my friend Sheila told me a few months ago, about her experiences in the tech sector. She said that 20 years ago, multi-millionaires would come into her office to ask for her help in setting up all kinds of charitable giving structures, for specific or broad causes, because they saw that being a strong philanthropist was part of the ethos of being wealthy. More recently, however, tech tycoons have been coming to her to figure out how to invest in their own longevity — to turn their millions towards extending their own lives —because they believe that the best use of their money is to have more of themselves. Giving away and/or giving back seems to have given way to a narcissistic fixation on oneself.

While the compassionate part of me can see greed as a kind of addiction disease, rooted in trauma/insecurity/sociopathy, the practical part of me is ready to get on with the healing. I want to support myself and others to release this ‘esteem’ — not just to pull the wind from those who are puffed up by its sails, but also to keep the trauma from expanding to others. I want to call a spade a spade, to see excessive wealth accumulation as a sickness, not as a success. I want to turn my reverence to those who are generously sharing what they have and encouraging others to do the same.

I also want to interrupt the vicious cycle that forces us to equate accumulation with not just worthiness, but also security. I understand that the breakdown of human and earth connection leads to insecurity, which then encourages people to put their faith in money as a way to quell their insecurity. And, yet, the scale of the greed cannot be explained by this alone. The hungry ghosts are beyond insecure; they are unhinged from their own and others’ humanity and interconnectedness, so much so that they can’t see how far they have gone from a life rooted in each other.

I want to shift our approach: How can I and we help others who suffer from the greed disease? How they can be returned to the realm of the living, instead of wandering the planet as a hungry ghost? What is my role in supporting that transition?

In trying to understand what is happening, I don’t mean to sound judgmental. I too have felt moments of insecurity and have grappled with worthiness around money, like most of us, I think. I know how much intentional effort it is to find a balance in saving, spending, giving away, living simply, enjoying worldly pleasures, caring for myself and my loved ones, extending care to a wider whole, being gentle to the earth. I honestly believe this is a lifelong dance and exploration, and I feel grateful to find beautiful companions for it.

What I want, though, is to de-couple worthiness from any material measure. Worth is inherent. Worth is in every being, every life. Worthiness is tied to existence. Period. The hungry ghosts do not understand this, but I and we can see through them. Maybe together, we can be champions for this kind of worthiness in big and small ways, everywhere we go. Let’s start with appreciating others for who they are, not just what they do. Let’s celebrate acts of kindness and generosity. Let’s reward and award those parts of humanity that give to others. Let’s call the sickness what it is, and ask how we can support those suffering most with their healing. Let’s practice what I learned during an Anatolia Youth Leadership Jam in Turkey, and begin saying simply, “Thank you for your existence,” to any and every being. I believe that paying attention to where we lend our esteem can and will send ripple effects through the whole system.

For example: I think about the shift happening in some activist circles, where for the longest time, esteem was given to the one who gave all of their time/energy/life force to the movement; they were the ones who were truly down for the cause, and everyone else was judged as less than if they didn’t sacrifice the same amount or more. Usually, this results/ed in burnout, resentment, fractured movements over time. (I wrote about how productivity kills community a few years ago.)

Now, however, I hear and experience more of a call for our activism to be a reflection of the world we want to see — where we care for each other and encourage people to be healthy, to slow down and work through challenges together; where we welcome grief and joy, creativity and play, and see them as vital as anger and fairness in our movement work. Esteem is shifting towards those who embody kindness, curiosity, and generosity, who seek to find balance in giving and receiving in sacred reciprocity, who work collaboratively and build bridges. There’s a move away from the self-martyring leader and towards the ecological whole.

This capacity for change inspires me. Maybe worthiness is truly in the eyes of the beholders, and we can flip the script here. I think it will be worth it.

How are you bringing in more reverence for generosity, seeing through the hungry ghosts, and healing the greed disease? I’d love to hear in the comments, if you’re willing to share.

ps. Substack subscribers, I am so honored to be participating in the Midwifing Change Summit. What a place to hold beautiful people in esteem! Join me there online, November 13-16, to explore how collective inner and outer development can shape cultures of care, how conflict can open into connection, how belonging can become fertile ground for renewal. With over 40 sessions led by courageous creatives from around the world - plus open spaces for participants to share their wisdom - this is truly a co-created, community-centered, experience offered in the spirit of Gift Culture - pay what you choose! Register today.

*Statistics from Inequality.org with more to read here.