Part of this is from the comment section in the last entry, but it’s so awesome it deserves its own spot in the blog. There are also a number of subscribers who don’t read the comments as frequently, only what arrives in their email inbox, and I want to make sure they don’t miss out on anything super-cool.
A got a bit of a lesson in money from this guy last night/this morning. (Yesterday he’s said to me, "Your relationship with money is f*cked up. I’m gonna help you sort it out".
So first of all he calls up this book:
"DON’T reread it. Just think about what it says".
I think he’s saying "don’t reread it" because she’s basically got it right but the angry energy, conspiracy theories and focus on debt ruins it.
"Right. Also you’ve learned what you need to learn from it".
Ok. So what the author is saying is that we’re sovereign spiritual beings. We can’t hold debts, only corporations can. Our birth certificates and other documents are "incorporation" documents that create a fictional "us" or straw man, and these straw men are the ones that hold debts. We confuse these creations for the real us, but they’re actually corporations that share our name.
(He thinks I’m still thinking about debt too much…)
Anyway, her other assertion is that all the money that is, is created through our signatures. WE create it. That’s why banks make you sign so much paper.
Now he’s telling me to forget all that, and just remember 2 things: 1) You are a sovereign spiritual being. YOU decide who you are. 2) YOU create your wealth. You create it out of nothing.
Okay. I get that.
"Now burn that book. It makes you angry".
It got more abstract after that. I was just waking up so that’s how it goes sometimes. He shows me a jewel-encrusted goblet. I recognize it from art history slide lectures, it belonged to St. Thomas Aquinas. (Of course I can’t find a picture of it). He’s like, "That guy had it right". I’m like, "In that beautiful objects help you contemplate God?". Him: "Yeah, I don’t know why people make a virtue out of poverty. (Shows me the Franciscan monk robe — maybe why he took exception to the Little John thing).
He explains that when you don’t have enough money you act out of fear. When your needs are met, you can act out of love. When you have more than you need you can act out of charity, you can be generous. Self-sacrifice isn’t a virtue.
He says, "It all goes back to Aristotle". He directed me to this article:
I’m going to have to tackle that later, though. Like after coffee.
Yesterday, when I was driving home, Biggie pops into the car. I feel this “What are you doing?” disbelief vibe and he says, “This car is F*cked up!” (I’m censoring for the sake of email filters.)
I just started to laugh. We do have the most messed up car I’ve ever seen. It’s a 1989 toyota tercel hatchback, 330,000 km and counting. The paint is all faded like it’s never seen wax. It’s tiny, it’s rusted all to hell. When I go over speed bumps, I worry something important will fall off. One day the rear bumper started to shift and I just punched it back on. The locks don’t work. It leaks so much oil I have to refill the oil almost as often as I fill the gas tank. There’s a crack in the windshield. The electrical’s messed up and the left turn signal won’t work.
I explained this to Biggie as I made three right hand turns to get home instead of one left hand turn. He goes, WHAT?? You drive a car that you can’t TURN LEFT? That is ridiculous, why you drivin’ this piece of sh*t?”
He then made it quite plain that we could be driving a better car. The poorest people in his home neighbourhood wouldn’t be caught dead driving a car like ours, even if it was given to them for free – they wouldn’t touch it. There’s this pride thing, like, if you drive a car like that you’re making yourself look worse off than you are, and the point of cars is to show off, have fun and have some pride!
I’d never owned a car before we moved out west – I always used public transit and rented cars for road trips. But somewhere along the way, I decided I was going to drive crappy cars to show other people how much we were struggling.
It was a stupid move, actually. I remember the day I made that decision; I was angry, and having a moment of ill-advised self pity. Kind of like the heroin addict decides to stick it to their loved ones by choosing to live on the street, I was going to be pissed off and as ugly-poor as I could look. When our first crappy car broke down in less than a year of driving it, our friends gave us their even crappier car, which we’ve been repairing and driving ever since.
Biggie says, When you not sure your car is gonna start, it’s time to get a new car. When you pray every damn time you drive it, it’s time to get a new car. WHEN YOU CAN’T MAKE A LEGAL LEFT HAND TURN – TIME TO GET A NEW CAR! Why you hangin’ on to this piece of sh*t?? Girl it’s not even funny, it’s just sad! You have the saddest car I ever seen! If this was a horse you’d have shot it a long time ago – you got to put this damn thing out of its misery. Put me out of my misery, riding around with you in this rusty coffin, what are you thinking about? Do you think you don’t deserve better? Do you think people goin’ look at you in a new car and think, “Damn, bitch be hidin’ money!” NO! They’ll be thinkin’ “BOUT DAMN TIME!”
An since when do you give a sh*t what other people think of you? You think I gave a sh*t what homies (back home) thought of me? HELL NO! I was showin’ them How To Be, showin them what it’s like for (a man) to hold money in his hand. (he’s laughing at me for what I just changed, dude I’m not writing that, then he’s like, “Dude, who am I, MC Hammer?” Well you do both wear big pants.)
So, Biggie, I promise you I am going to buy a new car. I will make you a deal – you help me find the money, I promise you I will buy that car. I know I already have the money – it’s just not in my bank account at the moment. But it’s coming, I can pull it in with my heart, like you showed me, and my mantra will help too.
I actually feel it’s important for me to pay my own money for this car, in order to feel proud about it. That fun car that I’ve been wanting for three years – an AWD Subaru hatchback wagon. (He thinks this choice is hysterically funny, and when I tell him it’s so we can go car-camping he laughs even more and says camping is a ghetto holiday, which, now that I think about it, it is a funny thing to do. Yeah, I’m going to go back into the woods and cook food over a fire and sleep in my car. Biggie shows me street people warming their hands over a fire in a steel drum; we’re doing the same thing, but in the woods. That’s a very weird thing to do for fun, for Biggie. If you sleepin’ in your car, you’ve got Problems, then he says, even the craziest homeless (guy) wouldn’t be caught dead in your car. He could get shot in your car and drag his ass out of there so he don’t die in your f*cked up car.)
Sweetie and I also realized last night that, in our hearts, we’ve been wanting very different vehicles. The car we’ve been attempting to manifest is really a compromise car that neither of us wants. She wants a standard, I want an automatic. She hates wagons, I love them. She wants something old, cute and ironic, like – I am not even exaggerating here – a tiny Shriners car or a vintage firebird convertible. I want something practical that can hold a lot of crap and drive really far. Really, we each want our own car, so we’re going to see who can get their car first. Ha!