The Parable of the Totems

Josh lives.  Josh walks.  Josh breathes.  Josh speaks. 

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, how can I prevent my accountants and my lawyers from blurring the focus of my company?”

Josh spoke thus:

There was a carver of totems who carved the finest totems.  People from all over came to him for totems, because no other totems pleased the household gods as well as his.  It was well known.

What was not well known was that the carver of totems was poor.  Surely, it was believed, a carver of such fine totems, whose totems were so in demand, and whose totems brought top prices--surely such a carver must be rich.

Everyone knew that his materials were costly.  Everyone knew that totems were labor intensive.  Everyone knew that quality demanded a high premium.  All were willing to pay the premium.  The household gods were happy.  And everyone knew that you couldn’t put too high a premium on the happiness of the household gods.

Everyone was wrong, though.  They were not wrong about the costliness of the materials.  They were not wrong about the intensity of labor.  They were not wrong about the happiness of the household gods.  They were wrong about the premium.  The carver of totems did not charge a high premium.  He barely charged above material cost.  A premium did not make the carver of totems happy.

What made the carver of totems happy was the fineness of his totems.

What made the carver of totems happy was the pleasure of his customers.

What made the carver of totems happy was the happiness of the household gods.

“That’s fine,” a banker told the carver of totems, “But I can show you how you can be rich.”

“Why should I be rich?” the carver of the totems asked, “My totems are fine, my customers are pleased and the household gods are happy.”

“Because you will be old, and you will be unable to carve totems,” the banker said, “Your totems will not be fine, your customers will not be pleased and the household gods will not be happy.  Your totems, your customers and your household gods will abandon you.”

The carver of totems saw that this was so.  Already he needed glasses to read.  Already his hands were less steady.

“But the household gods will guide my eyes, and the household gods will guide my hands, and I will carve totems until I die,” the carver of totems said.

“Crosses are cheap,” the banker said, “Stars are high profit.  Moons are a growth market.  Divest the totems.  Invest in the new gods.”

So the carver of totems carved crosses and stars and crescent moons, and he was rich on the day he died.

Blind and crippled with arthritis, the carver of totems fumbled for his cross beside his death bed.  

“Where is my cross?” he asked, desperate not to die without it.

The household god did not reply.