The Difference Between Getting Rich And Being Rich..

A few years ago, Donald Trump wrote a book entitled "How to Get Rich." Ho-hum.

Far superior, in my view, is "How to Be Rich" by J. Paul Getty, originally published in 1965.

Trump focuses almost exclusively on making money. Getty - the world's first billionaire - is more concerned with wealth as a way of life.

"After all," he writes, "'richness' is at least as much a matter of character, of philosophy, of outlook and attitude, as it is of money. The millionaire mentality' is not - and in this day and age, cannot be - merely an accumulative mentality. The able, ambitious man who strives for success must understand that the term rich' has infinite shadings of meaning."

Getty's consuming passion, aside from building a considerable fortune in the oil business, was art. Throughout his life, he collected hundreds of paintings, sculpture, tapestries, and fine antiques. (Many of them are now on display at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles.) He was a great believer in the enriching qualities of art. And he viewed with disdain the lowbrow culture of our time, often referring to his fellow men as "educated barbarians."

"Entirely too many Americans insist that they can see no reason for developing any cultural interests or appreciation of the arts. Some say they haven't time' for cultural pursuits. Yet, week after week, they will spend dozens of hours at country clubs, loafing here or there, or slumped in easy chairs in their homes staring blankly at the vulgar banalities that flash across the screens of their television sets."

(Bear in mind, this was written 40 years before the advent of "Reality TV.")

"Americans must realize that an understanding and appreciation of literature, drama, art, music - in short, of culture - will give them a broader, better foundation in life, and will enable them to enjoy life more fully. It will provide them with better balance and perspective, with interests that are pleasing to the senses and inwardly gratifying."

Personally, I've always had an amateur's interest in the arts. But lately I've been stretching out a bit, experiencing things I wouldn't usually bother with. In the process, I've made a few surprising discoveries.

Last night, for instance, I ventured out in a pouring rainstorm with a good friend to hear a concert sponsored by a local art gallery. It was Le Trio Joubran, three oud players (and a percussionist) from Palestine. It was highly improvised Middle Eastern music, definitely not the kind of thing you'd hear at The House of Blues. It was pretty exotic - and exceptionally good. (For a brief taste, visit the website, and click on the audio sample.)

Last Saturday, too, I dropped in on the Kerouac Festival at a local community college to hear a recital by Billy Collins, the nation's Poet Laureate from 2001 to 2003. Some of you may spontaneously recoil at the thought of listening to 90 minutes of poetry, with no place to run. But settle down. This is not "Shall-I-compare-thee-to-a-summer's-day" stuff.

Collins writes in a lucid, plain-spoken style that even lay readers can appreciate. And he, too, finds poetry in the most mundane aspects of everyday life. For example:

Dharma

The way the dog trots out the front door

every morning

without a hat or an umbrella,

without any money

or the keys to her doghouse

never fails to fill the saucer of my heart

with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example

of a life without encumbrance.

Thoreau in his curtainless hut

with a single plate, a single spoon?

Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world

with nothing but her brown coat

and her modest blue collar,

following only her wet nose,

the twin portals of her steady breathing,

followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside

every morning

and eat all his food

what a model of self-containment she

would be,

what a paragon of earthly detachment.

If only she were not so eager

for a rub behind the ears,

so acrobatic in her welcomes,

if only I were not her god.

Okay, this is not "Death Be Not Proud," but so what? When was the last time you heard an audience laughing and applauding all the way through a poetry recital?

J. Paul Getty was on to something - the idea of being rich, not just having riches. Sure, exposing yourself to art is just one aspect of enriching your life, but an important one. As the German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote a couple hundred years ago, "One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."

Take a few minutes to peruse the Weekend section of your local paper and I'll bet you'll find a concert, a gallery, a play - something - new to appreciate. And to share.

In the end, not everyone among us will get rich. But we each have the opportunity to live a rich life.