• This is part two of a three-part series leading up to the publishing of my first book—Artist, Merchant, Seeker.

    The book that will be released this Spring is about three archetypes, and how they form the basis of your work, no matter the profession or specialism you play in.

    These are very different archetypes, with entirely distinct ways of approaching the work of life.

    • The Artist is the creator in you, who makes things from the mysterious passions that light you up inside, forming artefacts of beauty that touch and move people.
    • The Seeker is the one who searches for the truth of this life, learning the nature of who we are and how the world works, bringing back wisdom that can be taught to others.
    • The Merchant is the trader in you, who offers the value you possess, in the marketplace, because mutual exchange benefits all of us, and propels our communities into richer lives.

    These are universal archetypes, and core to our work, but we tend to be native in one of these. And there’s one that feels foreign and unfamiliar.

    For me, and many of the people I work with, this is the Merchant.

    I’ve been long fascinated by the archetype. Because while it’s not native to me, I realised early on in my work life, that it was key. I couldn’t have named it that way. I just knew that if I wanted to make a difference in the world, in the way I felt called to, the path led through business.

    In inner city Sheffield where I grew up, Merchants were people with corner shops. I didn’t know any entrepreneurs. My social circles were filled with Artists, creatives and spiritual Seekers.

    My first business was high on idealism and low on know-how. Our one and only client was HolacracyOne who we helped to put on their first training events in Europe. At the first event, I asked one of the leaders, Tom Thomison what one business book he’d recommend I read (since I had never read one).

    I read it—Verne Harnish’s Mastering the Rockefeller Habits. It was the first book on a long path of self-learning. I’ve read a lot of business books since then, though I’ve probably spent more hours listening to business leaders and entrepreneurs on podcasts. And even more time learning through the direct experience of running businesses.

    I’ve studied the Merchant deeply, because it’s a place I have resistance, struggle and allergy. My native instinct is to steer away from the corrupting influence of the marketplace—to keep the dharma pure.

    So, in this article I’m going to reveal the heart of the Merchant archetype, and decode the dilemma that so many of us struggle with—how to embody its power without falling foul of its shadow.

    The Heart of the Merchant

    I love archetypal work, because it takes us to the root and heart of things. It helps us see the underlying code, as distinct from the infinite expressions we see around us in the world. This has been particularly important for me with the Merchant archetype.

    At the heart of the Merchant is a relational ethic—one that drives them to do good. They orient by what in the modern world we would call value. We use a sophisticated monetary system to track value and enable us to exchange it.

    For this is the central move of the Merchant—to trade in value, such that both parties benefit.

    If the thing I sell you is worth more to you than the value you’re paying, and the reverse is also true for me, then we’ve created extra value. More goodness, that didn’t exist before our exchange.

    This is a first principle of economics. When you take that principle, and build systems that allow and encourage it, the world becomes wealthier. Our modern culture is a living example of this.

    When this principle is channelled through an open heart it produces mutual thriving, progress for the community at large.

    When the underlying strategy is employed through a closed and wounded heart, we see instead into the Merchant’s shadow.

    There’s an idea I learned from Joseph Campbell. That you can see what’s centrally informing a society, by who creates its tallest buildings.

    It used to be castles because we were informed by conquest. Then it was temples and cathedrals because we were ruled by the gods. Now it’s skyscrapers because we are ruled by commerce.

    We are currently living through peak materialism. The Merchant sits at the height of his power.

    We are all reaping the unprecedented benefits of this. I am writing this, and you are reading this, on machines that were total science fiction not too long ago.

    And yet, as Gandalf teaches us, you cannot hold the ring of power without being affected by its corruption.

    The Shadow of the Merchant

    The shadow form of an archetype is what happens when it uses its power for dark aims, when the power is corrupted.

    The Shadow Merchant uses the power of trade, innovation and persuasion to win, at the expense of others. The move is driven by greed—an insatiable striving for more and greater. But the hole is never filled, and the scale of the enterprise never enough.

    While the heart of the Merchant’s ethic is mutual benefit, in its shadow form, this becomes singular benefit. And so, if the Merchant can win—at the expense of their customers, suppliers, or the environment itself—they will.

    In its darkest form this becomes gross deception, where the promised value the Merchant is offering does not even exist. It’s a scam.

    To live in this world is to live in the glory of the Merchant’s light, and the corruption of its shadow. For both are loud and present.

    And yet the shadow is not simply collective. I say this, in the (forthcoming) book…

    “The Shadow Merchant—if you’re willing to look—is plain to see. It’s all around us, cleverly using its power with greed, making profit at the expense of the wider good.

    Seeing this, though, can lead to a tragic mistake. Faced by the ugliness of the Merchant’s shadow, and not wanting to perpetuate its immorality, we then throw out the Merchant as a whole, declaring the whole game corrupt.

    This puts the Merchant in our own shadow—tucked away, where we can’t see it, and don’t use it. This then creates an internal suppression that robs us of our power to help and succeed. For the most precious and valuable work will do no good if it is not offered in the marketplace.”

    The Dilemma We’re Facing

    This, I think is the crux.

    It’s so easy for me—and so many people I know—to see with wide open eyes, the shadow of the Merchant, and resist its power. We fear being corrupted. Selling out. Selling our soul.

    And so, we’re stuck in a dilemma.

    Keep it pure and hide at the outskirts of the marketplace.

    OR

    Sell out in order to enter the centre of the marketplace.

    Faced with this choice, most of us choose to keep it pure. Anything rather than sell out.

    But the problem is the question itself. The dilemma itself is based on a false premise. That it’s either one or the other. It’s not. So, what’s the third option?

    It starts with integrity and honour. Don’t sell out.

    But neither can you avoid the act of selling itself.

    Rather, you learn how to courageously sell the value you possess, embodying the heart of the Merchant, without violating your ethical code.

    Though even knowing this doesn’t fully dissolve the dilemma. Even if we can choose to trade with integrity, why do so many of us still keep to the margins?

    In my experience, the story comes back to us, and our own insecurities.

    It’s easier to condemn the slimy marketplace and play it safe on the margins, than it is to step boldly forward, and be a stand for your own integrity.

    We fear we’re not strong, conscious or smart enough to work out how to do it ethically and effectively.

    This manifests as a feeling of insecurity—not fully believing in the value we possess. Or as a feeling of incompetence—unsure how to play the game in a way that works ethically and practically.

    This is central to the work I’ve done with my coaching clients over the years. It’s often the reason people come to me.

    The Merchant’s dilemma is not really about commerce and corruption. It’s about our own self-doubt.

    We doubt that we have enough value. Or enough mercantile competence. So, we play it safe. But the result is helpful for neither us nor the people who would really benefit from what we have.

    The solution is to find your own Merchant’s heart, trusting that your integrity will not be compromised. This same integrity is what will help you stand out in a marketplace full of shadow.

    I still remember writing the proposal for the people who became my first coaching clients twelve years ago. They were (lovingly) bugging me, asking when I would make a proposal for the work we’d talked about doing.

    I was filled with self-doubt, incredulous that I had the skills to help these amazing entrepreneurs, or that I could charge the amount of money I wanted to. I felt incompetent, unsure how I would help them with the marketing goals they had.

    It took me several days of writing, agonising over the right wording, trying to craft the offer to feel powerful, honest, and appealing. I remember sending it off, utterly unsure what would happen, but resolute in the knowledge I’d played my hand as best I could.

    I got a short email back very quickly “Yes, Ewan! We’re in”.

    This is the heart of the Merchant at work.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • My upbringing gave me a very strong narrative about business: it’s corrupt and corrupts good people.

    It took me many years to unwind this story and reintegrate the archetype of the Merchant back into my worldview and life.

    It’s been a great lifeline for me, when I’m feeling like a shy artist, or entrepreneurial imposter, to remember the ethic of the Merchant. Giving the value and goodness you have is what makes things better for all of us.. And to not do that, for fear of this or that, is essentially selfish.

    This is a good antidote for any of us who can tend to hide away our light, for fear of what might happen.

    The archetype of the Merchant

    The Merchant is in the business of goods and services. Modern economic theory names this “value”. Which is a powerful, though somewhat dry notion. The deeper quality is “good” or “goodness.”

    This is the transcendent ethic at the heart of the Merchant, to offer goods in service of the greater good.

    It’s hard to appreciate this sometimes, given the scandalous ethics that so much of our actual global marketplace currently embodies. Nevertheless, beneath this cultural shadow is the deeper ethic of providing value, of creating goodness.

    Here’s the basic mechanic.

    When I provide you with something that carries high value for your particular circumstances, and you give me something back which is also highly valuable to me, then we both end up better off. The amount of total value is higher after our exchange. We’ve done something good for each other; we’ve created goodness that didn’t exist beforehand.

    Back in the day, this was pretty simple stuff. I’ve got goats, and you love goat sausages. You’re a baker, and I have no time/skill for making bread (I’m looking after all the goats). So we create an agreement, where I swap you my goat sausages for your bread. We’re both richer as a consequence of the exchange.

    We’ve both done something good for one another, and received that goodness back. The result is a net profit on both sides of the goodness equation.

    Our society is fixated on money as the metric of value. It’s so hard for us to imagine a world in which this wasn’t the case, that we’ve ended up falling foul of the shadow of money.

    The shadow of money is that it purports to be the goodness itself – that it itself is the value. While in fact, it is the measurement of value. We’re mistaking the sausage for the stick that measures it.

    Why is this important?

    Because understanding it unlocks a new level of freedom for the entrepreneur who doesn’t know how to “bring in more revenue” or the freelancer who wants to “make more money”.

    Magic dashboards

    Imagine a metrics dashboard that would show you the current status of your business. And the big window at the top says “Goodness provided to people this month”. (Rather than our actual metrics dashboards, which of course feature “income” or “revenue”.)

    It’s a magic dashboard, so it can actually measure the total value of all the things you’ve done. There are countless things that make this number go up, but which have no financial exchange attached.

    An hour on zoom with someone, helping them out with their thing. Sending out a productivity cheat sheet to the folks on your mailing list. Messaging someone with the idea that popped into your head on Thursday. Getting out the barbeque and cooking up some goat meat sausages for your friends and family.

    These things would all pump the numbers in this imaginary value dashboard. If this thing actually existed, you could measure your success by “goodness created” rather than “money earned” (or God forbid, “number of social media likes”.)

    I like this idea. It casts the game of business into an entirely different light. The goal is giving goodness, which by the law of the merchant’s code, and a result of his skill, results in a receiving back of reciprocal goodness.

    In other words, over the long term, as you saw your “goodness created” go up, you’d also see your revenue (monetary income) rise along with it. For the two are of course deeply related. Since, at the energetic root of the merchant’s action lies the exchange of value, which creates extra value.

    The filling of one extra goat intestine with fresh meat is no skin off my nose…it’s “cheap” to me. Yet the convenience of munching on your tasty bread with no extra effort expended, is really quite valuable to me. So the swap creates extra value that hitherto didn’t exist. That’s the equation at the root of commerce.

    Our culture has made it exceptionally easy to do. Because money fills a second role for us, alongside it’s “measurement of value”. It is a “store” of value. In other words, I can “store” the value of my goat sausages in the form of money. Classically this was coins. Everyone valued the metal the coins were made of, and so could safety “sell” the coins again in the future.

    We barely even use coins any longer. Our money is now digitalised, such that I can swap it for unprecedented numbers of things with unprecedented ease.

    And that’s of course where the shadow of money rears its ugly head. We shoot for money being the target, the goal of business and life. Forgetting that the point is the sausage, or the deep satisfaction that comes from doing what you’re really good at, knowing it really benefited someone else.

    Playing a good game

    The goal is to create goodness. Doing what you’re good at and giving that goodness to others in the form of goods or services.

    Even “non-professional” goodness counts! Calling your mother to catch up can create more goodness than brainstorming a new business strategy.

    One thing to remember however is that you create a great deal of goodness when you start with what you’re good at. Where is your value? I’m assuming you don’t make premium goat sausages. So what is it?

    From the ethical perspective of the merchant, selfishness is when you don’t proactively offer your goodness in the marketplace.

    I know a great many “old souls” (this one included) who struggle to fully present their value in the marketplace, because they don’t want to be pushy, or they feel like imposters. While from the inside this can feel real and important. From the outside it results in your goodness being withheld from people who would benefit from it. Which is indeed a form of selfishness.

    So the perspective shift is from “how can I make more money?” to “how can I create more goodness (value)? Even if you do want to create more money, the metric I suggest you optimise for is ‘goodness created’.

    If you want to be strategic about it, you can ask yourself “how can I create goodness for the people I want to work with professionally?” This helps you funnel your goodness toward the people you want to build your business for.

    It’s a lot easier for someone to say “I’d like to pay for more of the goodness you’re already giving me.”

    Another way of looking at this is that it’s a practice of generosity — of giving your goods, without a strategic objective of return. The law of the universe seems to handle the returns (you’re not in control what they are).

    This is a form of reciprocation. Humans are wired to reciprocally return generosity. Indeed, many people feel guilty if they’ve been given a kindness and haven’t returned one.

    The real payoff though, is the shift of focus from the stick to the sausage. The point is the goodness. The practice of doing what you’re good at, and of doing good in the world. This makes us feel useful, like we’re making good on the gifts and plans we came down here with.

    You get to be good to people. Live a good life. Which feels so good.

    Ewan Townhead

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