Loot should be a loving hoot. Rolling in the dough ought to be everyone’s sweet treat. Recently, I reignited my waking affirmations to include a couple of sentences related to wealth. Along with other positivity body language, each morning before leaving the bed I pronounce aloud a series of remarks to myself. Holding my hand over my heart, and with earnest clarity (as the brain will try to leap onward if you’re not careful), I merrily tell the new day things such as: I am a money magnet! Money comes to me easily and effortlessly, waking and sleeping. I go on like this for about five minutes in total. It harkens back to a time in my late twenties when I was still grappling with the goblins of greed. Undervalued, with a wicked pleasing slant, I hadn’t learned the fine arts of finances. Where the moolah menagerie was renowned for asking plus receiving. I was in need of reframing my history.
Money mantras are an interesting quirk of a great cadre of the super-rich I’ve read, heard speak, and whom tout the talent of their affluence stems from planting their pretty paws generously in the green stream (as we’d want to refer to it in the USA) by all sorts of means. Money is this funny experiential element. Wood fiber (aka trees), cotton, linen, a chemical chloride, and animal glue for f*ck sake form some of the items used to craft our world economy’s exchange. I’ll dare state that the karma of whosoever is awash with freedom of spending sprees is typically tied to the psyche that an abundance of pretty pennies is being healthy. I’ve had quite the ride working during my career arc for more than a few humans who caught the money-train in their lives. Yet, I was never paid even near what we’d call ‘handsomely’ for my 24/7 attending to that which would have been best managed by a team of three in most cases.
Our past, as well as our fantasies, are intoxicating lubricant for shaping our future. Maybe you’ve missed giving gifts because you were too poor, but really wished you could plunk a wad of bills down to dazzle that darling someone, grab a set of new wheels in cash, or fork over a new leaf for the less fortunate on the street. Anyone who’s slept on family or friends couches, not to mention a share of international airports to save a buck on overnight flights, equal to cramped carriage for the public aboard trains, in your parked car (praying you wake before the meter maid hits their early circuit), random benches, or anything of the similar vein, might appreciate my penchant for owning an elegant eco-resort island in my name eventually. That’s the millions-mentality I enjoy channeling. I’ve shaken hands with people who’ve done it. I know it’s a reality for many. There’s absolutely zero reasons I, nor you, should be left out of this same camp.
Cheapskates will chronicle our fleshy legacy. However, every instant it comes time for someone to rake in those pastries of prosperity I deem a grander appraisal of the worth of gold. Merely, what it isn’t is a hunk of metal with a fluctuating price tag. Considerately, it is a symbol of generosity. As in the golden pursestrings, one may choose to allocate over their ages. Right now, I’m imagining myself granting one-hundred dollar banknotes partnered with huge hugs to those with deep lack daily. Once, whilst walking the upscale winter evening avenues of New York City with my middle-class friends, I dug two crisp Benjamin Franklin’s from my stash to treat two separate homeless men numerous blocks apart. I did it just because. It felt empowering and essential ~ for them. Although, in hindsight, my why was largely for how their smiles warmed me against the shivering night air, which I hope I’ll forever remember.
I’ve always cherished the idea of having the capacity for constant bountiful sympathy. Impulsive to planned permeation of supporting others. The estimate of a good life contemplates the cost of charity. You’ll be tested. Temptations go out of their way to sway you into thinking shiny goals of another sort are better suited for you. Your objectives need to be precision-fidelity-minded. You don’t want anything kicking you out of alignment with your goodwill missions. When we notice our reserves give us room for philanthropic actions it’s not only fiscally sound but benevolently lenient. Besides, each nonprofit I’ve ever funded repays me gracefully in extra helpings of fortuity. The biggest impacts often happen from small contributions. Every bit we donate turns an entire life around. So, especially today in honor of our upcoming International Day of the Girl October 11th online event, or any day you review this, please do me a favor to shave a handful from your account to send away to my special Ethiopian Studio Samuel girls. Ameseginalehu! (“Thank you” in Amharic.)
May your personal TREASUREy tender you, and your ripple reaching others, radiant riches.