The Marble Staircase

There's a popular allegory about a marble staircase, which separates the poverty of the ground-floor and the penthouse elite.

The story goes like this: a poor young boy approaches the bottom of the staircase, where he finds the Devil waiting for him. Longing for the music, food, and merriment of the top floor, the boy asks the Devil how someone like him can possibly reach it.

“You just walk up,” the Devil says, “But there’s a price: you have to give me your ears.”

“My ears?” says the boy. “How will I hear?”

“Don’t worry,” the Devil says, “I’ll give you new ones.”

The boy agrees, trading his ears for a new pair, and ascends to the second floor. The music of the penthouse is clearer and more beautiful than the boy ever imagined it could be, and he doesn’t even notice that the cries and moans of the destitute below him have faded away. On the landing, the boy again meets the Devil, and asks how he can get closer to the party, which seems even more enticing.

“The same way,” says the Devil. “You just walk up. But this time, you have to give me your eyes.”

“How will I see?” the boy asks.

The Devil answers, “I’ll give you new ones.”

The boy agrees and a swap is made. On the third landing, he can see the lights and smell the food above him, but when he looks down to the bottom floor, he can no longer see the people huddled there, fighting for survival. Again the boy encounters the Devil, who nods to the revelry just one flight away.

“You’re almost there,” the Devil says. “Are you ready to take the last step?”

The boy looks up, so close to everything he always dreamed would be accessible to him. He can’t even remember the world he came from.

“What’s the price?” the boy asks.

“Your heart,” says the Devil, and the boy hands it over.

Hearing this parable on a recent Hidden Brain podcast, my first thought was that it was a convenient narrative for those who demonize wealth and privilege. I wondered if it didn’t support a “crabs in a bucket” argument for why someone would choose to stay where they are, by assuming there is some kind of karmic currency that must be sacrificed by leaving the place you were born into. It made me question if human beings are so terrified of social isolation that we sometimes use it to argue against upward mobility, imagining it’s better to suffer where we are than venture into the unknown without a tribe.

I found myself conjuring an alternate tale of ascension:

Imagine you approach a marble staircase. You can see, three flights up, the life of your dreams*. Around you are all the people you’ve always known, who have spent a lifetime supporting you, but also keeping you right where you are. Some of them might come with you to that top floor, but some might not. Some might even try to hold you back. A Guardian of the Staircase appears, and tells you there are Three Tolls you must pay on the way up, each one a sacrifice of something that has been holding you back. To get to the top, you must leave all three behind.

The First Toll: Awareness

First, you have to give up your complaints – all your grumbling and moaning about where you are and how hard it is. Only when you stop listening to your own whining can you start to believe in the possibility of change. And this first belief: that it’s possible for you to have better, do better, or be better, is the first step in a journey of a thousand miles. Without it, you can’t even begin. Awareness is the reward for making it to this first landing – noticing how you have been holding yourself back.

The Second Toll: Clarity

Next, you have to give up your excuses – all the reasons why you think you can’t have that life of your dreams. Because the truth is, these excuses – these thoughts you think about why you either can’t have (or aren’t allowed to have) what you want – are the biggest things keeping you where you are, after your complaints. An excuse is just permission to make a bad choice, and it doesn’t serve you. It’s an argument for your right to give up and turn back. If you want access to better, you have to give up your excuses. It’s the only way to see the potential path ahead of you.

The Third Toll: Entitlement

The last thing you have to give up is your limiting beliefs. Entitlement is just a belief you have about what you deserve. Believing that you don’t deserve something is just as powerful as believing that you do. Thinking that you haven’t earned the right to something better will hold you back from it every time – it’s an artificial barrier, created by limiting beliefs. Even when someone is telling you that all you have to do is walk up a staircase to get what you want, if you hold a belief that you have to give up something you’re not willing to sacrifice to get you there, you won't let yourself move forward. The decision is yours either way. Telling yourself that it isn’t a choice is deluding yourself. It may be a difficult choice – it may be a choice between a rock and a hard place – but it’s still your choice to make.

Some people will make the journey up the staircase with you. They’ll encourage you to stop complaining, stop making excuses, and believe in yourself. Others will join in your misery, make excuses for you, and tear you down, giving you reasons why you aren’t allowed to pursue your dreams. You are the only one who can put one foot in front of the other on that marble staircase, climbing as high as you’re willing to go. You are the only one who can pay the tolls, decide who comes with you, and leave the ones who want to stay behind. The delusion of life is thinking that it’s anyone else but you who makes that choice.

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*Which begs the question, “What does the life of your dreams look like? How is it different from the life you have right now? Is it how you feel about your life that differs in that far away world of your dreams, or is it your life there that differs? Are you imagining that changing your circumstances will change your perspective, or could it be possible to change your perspective and thus, change your circumstances? Could the life of your dreams be everything you have and are doing right now, but experienced through a different lens?” Like George Bailey, whose "Wonderful Life" doesn’t actually change (though his perspective does), I do believe it’s possible for the life of our dreams to actually be the exact same life we have now. We may not always need more to feel better, and if that is indeed the case, perhaps the solution to unhappiness is not a change in our circumstances, but a change in our perspective.

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