We had two rules growing up in my house: If you're going to take

In the words of Moon Unit Zappa, “We had two rules growing up in my house: If you're going to take a shower, do it with whomever you're dating so you don't waste water; and if you buy one for yourself, buy six, because everybody's going to want one.” — there is, beneath its playful wit, the echo of a deeper philosophy. On the surface, it sounds like a child’s memory of her eccentric upbringing, a glimpse into the creative chaos of the Zappa household, where humor and individuality ruled. Yet if one listens closely, there is ancient wisdom hidden within — a teaching about connection, generosity, and the sacred art of living freely.

The first rule, spoken in jest, is not merely about saving water, but about the sharing of life itself. It speaks of intimacy, of the joining of two lives in simplicity, not opulence. The ancients might have said that nothing should be done alone if it can be done in love. The image of two souls stepping beneath the same stream — cleansing, laughing, existing together — is a symbol of the unity and interdependence that all human beings crave. Beneath the humor, Moon Unit reminds us that the most ordinary moments of life can become sacred when they are shared. It is a call to merge practicality with affection, to make even the mundane an act of joy.

The second rule, that if you buy one, you must buy six, carries a lesson as old as civilization: the call to generosity. In a world that often glorifies individualism, this simple saying teaches the spirit of abundance — not in wealth, but in attitude. To “buy six” is to anticipate the needs of others, to prepare to share what brings you happiness. The ancients knew this as the virtue of liberality, the open-handedness of spirit that transforms the self from a hoarder of things to a giver of joy. Just as the old sages advised, “He who gives multiplies,” so too does Moon Unit’s rule celebrate the cycle of giving — that in sharing, one becomes rich in love and laughter.

In these two humorous rules lies the portrait of a family — one steeped in the eccentric genius of Frank Zappa, where rules were not shackles but sparks of creativity. They lived not by rigid morality, but by the freedom of expression. And yet, within that freedom was discipline of the heart: respect for the planet, care for others, delight in the absurd. This was no careless rebellion, but a philosophy of living lightly, without waste or selfishness. It is the kind of teaching one might hear from a wise fool in an ancient court — one who cloaks truth in laughter, so that it may enter the heart without resistance.

History offers a mirror for such wisdom in the life of Diogenes of Sinope, the Cynic philosopher who lived in a barrel and mocked society’s vanity. When asked what he desired, he replied, “Nothing but the sun.” When Alexander the Great offered him riches, Diogenes simply said, “Step out of my light.” Like Zappa’s household, Diogenes lived by rules that seemed absurd to others, yet carried the pulse of truth: live simply, share freely, laugh often, and cling to nothing. In every age, those who see clearly dress wisdom in the robes of humor, for the serious heart is slow to learn what the laughing one understands at once.

Thus, in Moon Unit Zappa’s whimsical recollection, we glimpse the essence of what it means to live beautifully: to be practical, playful, and kind in equal measure. To share both the shower and the purchase is to live in communion with others, to balance self-care with care for the world. Hers is a lesson in mindful abundance — the ability to enjoy what you have without greed, and to multiply joy through generosity and companionship. It is a reminder that wisdom does not always come in solemn words; sometimes it hides in laughter, waiting for those wise enough to hear it.

So, let us take her words not as a jest, but as a gentle commandment for modern life. Live with others, not above them. Give more than you need. Waste nothing — not water, not kindness, not joy. For the true wealth of a person lies not in possessions, but in how they share their moments with others.

And when you next find something that brings you delight — whether a meal, a song, or a gift — remember Moon Unit’s rule: don’t buy one, buy six. For what good is joy if it cannot be passed from hand to hand, from heart to heart, like sunlight shared among friends?