I keep getting stuck philosophically on the act of selling something unique and genuine. Every homemade pie, each pair of sneakers, and every breakfast cereal has within it's essence the art of the craftsmen who imagined, designed, implemented, and marketed it. Every time we put a price tag on our genuinely deepest hopes and aspirations I can't help but feel it cheapens the experience. Any products made with less are mere distractions or shadows of what we are capable of producing.
Each of us only has a limited amount of time and energy and over the course of our lifespans we will only conjure a limited number of true value products. These may be ideas, images, products or services and they may inspire future works. But ultimately we can only extract a limited amount of our total bounded potential. Imagine the metaphysical light cone of potential interractions and you will understand the type of limitations I'm considering.
Each and every time we request or demand a payment for our genuine efforts we are placing a price tag on our life's work. We trust that the market of fair value will adequately measure the granules of sand that flow in the hour glass of our existence.
Some force or inclination within me desparately resists the urge to barter off even an infintessimal ounce of my spirits labor. I cannot accept what the market is willing to pay, the price of my genuine passionate work has been and always will be free!