​The Withering Vine of "Buy, Borrow, Die": A Hedge Druid's Lament

By Joseph F. Villalobos, Hedge Druid & Keeper of the Green Wisdom

For over forty harvests, I have walked these ancient paths, felt the pulse of the earth beneath my bare feet, and observed the patterns of the human realm. The oaks tell tales of growth and decay, the rivers speak of cycles, and the very soil reminds us that true wealth lies in connection and reciprocity.

Lately, however, a new, noxious weed has taken root in the human economy, suffocating the healthy growth of the forest floor. It’s a strategy they call “Buy, Borrow, Die,” a twisted kind of magic whispered among those who dwell in towering structures of glass and steel. And my heart aches, for I see how it withers the collective spirit of our society, benefiting only a privileged few while the many gasp for light.

They say this path is wise, that it builds wealth. And indeed, for those who practice it, their personal coffers swell. They "Buy" vast tracts of land, not to nurture and cultivate, but to hold as tokens. They acquire shares in mighty enterprises, built on the sweat and ingenuity of countless others. These assets, like ancient trees, grow tall and strong, not by their direct tending, but by the relentless effort of the collective forest.

Then they "Borrow." Ah, this is the most peculiar twist of their magic! Instead of tapping into the fruits of their swelling assets—which would generate a fair share for the common well (taxes, they call it)—they pledge these growing giants as collateral. They draw forth new streams of gold, tax-free, living lavishly upon these borrowed waters. It's like siphoning the sap from a great oak without ever letting it fall to nourish the earth below. The tree remains, seemingly untouched, yet its vital essence is diverted.

And finally, they "Die." A harsh word, but in their system, it's the ultimate act of evasion. When their journey ends, the great assets they held are deemed "fresh"—their immense, untaxed growth wiped clean, passed on to their descendants as if new. All the accumulated bounty, never truly shared with the community that helped it grow, simply reshaped and replanted. The collective effort that swelled those assets is forgotten, the social dividend unharvested.

The True Cost to the Forest Floor

This isn't merely a trick of numbers; it’s a profound betrayal of the natural order of shared prosperity. My eyes, accustomed to seeing the interconnectedness of all things, witness the fallout:

   • A Withering of the Middle Ground: When wealth is hoarded and passed on without contributing its fair share, the common well dwindles. The paths become rough, the streams run shallow. Schools, those vital nurseries of young minds, struggle for nourishment. Healers, dedicated to mending the body and spirit, find their resources strained. The very foundations of a healthy, vibrant society—our collective investments in human capital—begin to crack.

   • The Illusion of Effort: They sit in their yachts, far from the bustling boardrooms and factory floors, and their wealth multiplies. This passive accumulation, built on the labor of others and the stability provided by the common folk’s taxes, fosters a dangerous illusion: that vast wealth requires no reciprocal contribution. It breeds arrogance, making them believe their immense fortune is solely the fruit of their own superior intellect, rather than the collective effort of the society they inhabit.

   • The Unpaid Debt to the Earth: The military that protects their distant ventures, the roads that transport their goods, the legal frameworks that secure their property—all are nurtured by the taxes of the many. Yet, through this "Buy, Borrow, Die" spell, they partake of these bounties with a mere whisper of contribution, leaving the burden disproportionately upon the shoulders of those who have less. It is a profound imbalance, a violation of the sacred principle of reciprocity.

They call tax-funded health and education "handouts." I call them the rain and sun that nourish the entire forest! An investment in the vitality of every sapling ensures a strong, resilient grove for generations. A healthy, educated populace is not a cost; it is the most precious resource, the very soil from which true innovation and prosperity spring.

For decades, I've heard the echoes of "trickle-down," the promise that abundance at the top would eventually seep down to the roots. But this "Buy, Borrow, Die" strategy reveals the true intention: to dam the stream at its source, letting only the merest dewdrop escape, while the upper pools swell unchecked.

No, this strategy fails. It fails the soil, it fails the saplings, and it ultimately leaves the entire forest vulnerable to blight. For true wealth is not measured in hoarded gold, but in the vibrant health, shared prosperity, and interconnected strength of all who dwell within the green embrace. It's time for this withering vine to be pruned, and for the life-giving waters to flow freely once more, nourishing every part of our shared human ecosystem.