A post about money, how I don't have a lot of it, and how that's changing the way I view the world in a way that encourages me to actively invest more life and love in the people around me.
Money has always felt unnatural to me. Something about it has always made me feel disconnected, especially when it's used between friends. I've never been able to rationalize charging friends and relatives for massages and have felt tremendously awkward whenever I received money for yoga classes. I was never comfortable taking money from my gardening boss, Judy. It wasn't because I felt I hadn't worked hard or "earned" the money -- it was because I felt like I wanted my gardening to be an investment in Judy as a person and not in my personal bank account.
What I've discovered over the past few years is that money seems to create distance between people. Because my life has so little money, I live in the homes of families instead of staying in hotels. I either cook with my hosts or I go eat cheap street food in noisy markets surrounded by throngs of people.
I've discovered that money is a medium we use to restore balance and to keep us from feeling indebted to or invested in those around us. We go to a cafe, pay two bucks for a drip coffee, and no longer feel the need to do anything for or with the person who just handed us our coffee.
Bill be paid.
In a book called "The Moneyless Manifesto," the author tells a story about a father who, on the day of his son's graduation from college, sent his son a bill for his entire life up to that day. A bill that included his son's diapers, his son's daycare, his son's education.
The son eventually paid the bill and never talked to the father again. The balance had been restored and there was no longer an investment in the relationship.
Money puts a price tag on the priceless.
Back in the day when I wore uncomfortable pants and actually actively amassed money, my daydreams included the things I could use my money to purchase. I'd browse amazon, the clymb, steep and cheap and campsaver as if I'd just won the lottery and had millions to spend. I'd lust after items that I didn't really need and concoct crazy schemes as to how I could amass more money to buy more things. And the fact that there were all these goodies that I wanted but didn't quite know how to get filled me with anxiety. Insecurity. Jealousy of the people who were able to make more money to buy the things that I wanted (why the hell does Prana charge a hundred bucks for a pair of jeans?) but couldn't afford.
Now? I have thirty dollars in my paypal account. Instead of daydreaming about how I can find jobs to make more money (to buy things I don't really need to survive), I daydream about how I can invest in people and community in order to meet all my actual needs.
And I have no anxiety. I have no jealousy. I have heaps of trust and loads of ideas. I'm also more than okay with not wearing a pair of hundred dollar Prana jeans. I wear whatever I'm given, and I'm always given enough.
The shirt I'm wearing was given to me by Janet in Colorado.
The shorts I'm wearing were given to me by Jo in Mexico.
(I think underwear is silly, so don't bother)
My friend Janet (whose shirt I currently wear) taught me an invaluable lesson in investment. When I lost my apartment in 2012, she invited me to share her home for eight months, rent free. She invited me because she loves me, supports me and wanted to invest in my life.
And I would pretty much do anything in the world for Janet. If she called and asked for a massage, I'd be all over it. If she wanted yoga lessons every day all summer, I'd be down. If I was ever in the position to share my home with her for eight months, there wouldn't be a single millisecond of "well, I don't know..."
It would be an immediate, "get your ranger butt over here and make yourself at home. I have cheese. Come eat cheese with me."
These are the investments I want to make in people. Relationships wherein trust such as this is cultivated. Now, this isn't me saying that I want to be a "mooch." I don't want to be someone who always absorbs the energy and resources of those around me without giving back.
But here's the thing. I do give back. I give back in the form of yoga, massage, cooking, listening, storytelling...
And I don't understand why money became more valuable than a homemade dinner or a massage. I don't understand why cold cash became the best way to show appreciation and care.
Sure, money is the most efficient way to complete transactions.
But there's a vast difference between living an efficient life and living an optimum life. Unfortunately, I think this difference is lost on a lot of people.
I want my "transactions" to be beautifully unbalanced, as a sign of my trust and investment in my loved ones and community. I want to love so deeply that I give without thinking about receiving. I want to trust so deeply that I receive without thinking about giving. I want that feeling of "indebtedness."
I want my daydreams to include fantasies about how to better give to loved ones and community and not about how to work harder and make better money.
Since I'm not walking the Colorado Trail and will spend the majority of this fall and winter in Grand Junction, I have a new challenge for myself.
To learn to meet my local needs locally.
And to meet them without money.
I'm going to be brazen. Bold. Unapologetic. I'm going to walk right up to farmers at Grand Junction's weekly open market and say, "I'm trying to become more connected to my community and I'm experimenting living life through investing in people and not accumulating money. I volunteered on organic farms in Ireland for a few months and learned that most farmers compost the fruits and vegetables that aren't aesthetically pleasing enough to sell. I was wondering if you'd be open to an exchange. I'm a yoga teacher who's got heaps of experiencing harvesting veg. So if you'd like, I could come over on your harvesting day, help you harvest for a couple of hours, give the workers a free yoga class, and then take home some of the fruit and veg you were going to compost anyway. What do you think?"
(I may also try dumpster diving. Don't tell anyone)
I'm going to create a Facebook page for the Grand Valley wherein people can share their time and skills with others in the community.
For instance.
I want to learn how to make kombucha. My mom ferments some killer delicious kombucha. I'd post on the Facebook page (with my mom's permission -- what do you think, Mom?), "Want to learn to make kombucha? I'm making loads this weekend. I'll probably start around three o'clock on Saturday. Bring food if you want to share. Bring some music if you want to have a post-kombucha dance party. Dress code = comfortable pants."
I plan to offer free yoga classes on this Facebook page. Maybe the occasional massage. When I start experimenting more with making my own cheese, I want to invite anyone and everyone to join in (a cheesy community = an awesome community).
I want to create a space where people can become more comfortable simply giving and receiving without the use of money.
How I hope to incorporate this system into my life (realistically) as a vagabond who spends four years creating community in a city and then two years traipsing about the globe, is to have my capitalist price and my community price.
Let's hypothesize that I'm living in Bordeaux with Boy. I would go to all the farmer's markets and find ways to exchange yoga and massage for cheese, wine, meat and produce (yes, this is listed in order of importance). This would a) connect me with the community in which I live and b) provide for my physical need of consuming large amounts of exquisite French food. Probably less doable (but still achievable) is figuring out how to find moneyless accommodation. I don't have Janets all over France, but France is positively rife with hostels that are very happy to host yoga teachers. So I'd contact a hostel and ask if I could exchange a yoga class every morning for a room where I could live with Boy. Then I'd spend a few months building community and I'd keep my eyes and ears open for my French Janet.
My capitalist price would come from charging guests at hostels and hotels for yoga classes and massages. This money would go towards plane tickets, travel gear, and all other things used outside the Bordeaux community.
It's a dream, anyway.
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