"You Can Take This to the Bank"

I freak out about money. I admit it; as much as I try to let go of worrying and stay in the present moment, when it comes to finances, I freak right the hell out.

In those just-woke-up, early morning moments, I chastise myself for any recent, unnecessary purchases. This is the kind of Gollum/Smeagol dialogue that will ensue inside my head:

"Did you really need that bronze Kathy Van Zeeland purse?"
"But I got it at Ross...only $39.99."
"Still, you need to be saving for the summer. And don't you want to go on a trip? Would you rather have that bag or go to London?"
"That's a good point...."
"You should take it back."
"No, I love it! Please. How about this. I won't make any more purchases. The only place I will shop is Publix. For real this time."

And then I make a vow to myself: no more unnecessary purchases until I have "financial security." Whenever and whatever that may be.

See, when I got divorced, I didn't want the house, the furniture, the dishes, the pots and pans, etc. What I wanted was a chance to prove to myself that I could get my life together and take care of me and my kids on my own. I wanted a fresh start and a new home. I wanted the feeling that comes with looking around me and knowing, "I did all this." However, making that fresh start with a B.A. in English, an M.Ed. in English Education, and a twelve year gap on my resume proved harder than I ever imagined. No one goes into teaching for the money. (Still, my house does look pretty darn cute. Craigslist and consignment stores are awesome.)

Of course, my ultimate intention is to make a living as a writer, but those seeds are still germinating. So in the meantime, I teach, mostly "part time." (Part time pay, full time hours.) But without a Ph.D. I don't have much (any?) chance for tenure, and since I know a Ph.D. in English really isn't my bliss anyway, I need more options. If I weren't a mom, I know exactly what I would do: take an assignment teaching English in another country. Hands down. But I am tethered to the U.S., for now at least. Still, I believe things tend to work out for us, if we just go with the flow.

For example, I recently found in my mailbox a ConEd catalog from the university where I teach. They offer a certification program for TESOL (Teaching English to folks who don't speak it, who are therefore "SOL"). The cert requires three classes, each one a whopping $399. HOWEVER, I discovered that we, as faculty, get to take these classes for the low low price of "free." Beautiful! Maybe I could do this teach-in-a-foreign-country pipe dream for a summer and take the kids with me. I brought home some brochures about teaching English abroad just for fun, letting the kids discuss over dinner whether we would go to Thailand, Chile, Spain, or China. They voted for China.

"China?"

Anyway, back to the purse dilemma. Spiritually, I could be affirming daily that I am wealthy, that the Universe spills its abundance all over me, that I am bringing piles of money to myself right now, today. I once heard a New Thought minister say she set her intention on paying cash for a new Mercedes, and by gum, she got it. (Applause.)

But that ain't how my spirchul brain works. I love money--don't get me wrong. It equals travel. Still, I would rather affirm that I am whole, complete, and content without the Kathy bag. I don't need the Universe to spill enough money on me so I can buy it. I need It to help me see that I have no desire for the purse in the first place. I know in my heart that I did not buy it because the ones I already have weren't doing their job (although the black one is getting tattered...). I bought it because it gave me a little buzz: when I got it for less than half the MSRP, when I put all my stuff in it and admired it in the mirror, and when the girl in the elevator in the English building said, "I love your purse!"

Squee!

But that buzz will wear off, and then I will want the next. Maybe this time it will be a lip gloss that will change my life. Or a pair of shoes. Or a cute top. Ultimately, I want to quit wanting and just be happy with what I already have. I also want to get to that place where I feel complete and worthy, independent of any earning power or asset accumulation. If I'm a spiritual being, then the circumstances of this particular human experience no more define my soul than the outfit I wore Saturday night defines my identity. But this is hard to get into my brain when Gollum and Smeagol are busy bickering about my purchases up in there.

Each one has a point, but each also represents a negative attachment to money. Gollum is the miser who holds onto every penny. This interrupts the flow of giving and receiving in the Universe. And Smeagol is the materialist who tries to fill a void in his soul with "things." I don't want to be either of them. Hopefully, my next buzz might just come from the image of me with my tattered black Kathy bag and the kids, strolling through the streets of London...

Or China?