One month after my quest to cut spending

Yes, folks, my challenge to drastically cut spending has turned me into a conservative (fiscal conservative, that is) consumer. I did pretty well. A reminder of my challenge:

The rules (set forth by me)
1. No buying of any clothing of any kind
2. No frivolous buying of food stuffs.
3. No dining out unless absolutely necessary- if say, the power goes out or I find myself dangerously low on blood sugar.
4. No buying of books or magazines.
5. No paying for entertainment

4 out of 5 isn't bad. 3 proved more difficult than I had thought.
Some highlights:

I realized that window shopping is less stressful than actual shopping. It's kind of like the more money you have, the more broke you are. I also see how numb I can get to all the mindless spending when I'm an active participant. Suddenly, buying 3 magazines a week seems frivolous (now I just read them in the magazine aisle). Most importantly, I felt like a bit of an addict and that scared me. I had to wonder, what need is it satisfying for me? Some sort of sense of security and belonging. Also, some sort of child-who-grew-up-in-poverty backlash. But, against who? Myself? It's just silly and I'm glad I got some clarity. In fact, I feel centered now when I shop in a way I didn't before. I feel a sense of control and calm whereas before I greeted the mall and even the grocery store with a mixture of excitement and despair.

And through this whole process of giving something up (the proximity to Lent is just a coincidence, really) I realized that this one month goal setting is a good idea. So, look out for my next monthly action--- it's not necessarily going to be something I have to give up.

To all my rainbows.....

Packed into the Evergreen gym sitting beside thankful strangers, I waited for Maya Angelou to emerge. She walked slowly toward the stage supported by a cane and a younger black man (her son?) As soon as she opened her mouth and sang the words that I'd been waiting to hear she had me, had all of us opening our hearts, minds, and eyes to her truths. She spoke of rainbows, she wove them in and out and then back in again through her stories of uncle Willie and Bailey and her "strange bird" mom. These, she said, were her rainbows- giving her light in the shadow of clouds.
I began to think about my own rainbows. All the people who have helped me become the person I am thankful to be, and some who have just passed through my life like shooting stars and left traces of light in their wake. I am compelled to thank them- like I am receiving some award (life?) or publishing my first book or composing liner notes. I think it's best not to wait....
First,
my mom - for taking care of me
my dad and family - for accepting me
my sisters - for sharing their incredible struggles and insights with me and looking out for me
my grandmother - for loving me unconditionally
my cousins - for playing and laughing with me
my aunts - for showing me what strong, beautiful women look like
my nieces and nephews - for teaching me to care and be silly
my Brad - for trusting me with his heart
my pal Abigail - for showing me what friendship is and introducing me to art
my teachers - for taking time and patience to share their gifts


I know this list is nowhere near complete, but it's a start. I also know that I haven't reached my full rainbow potential. Maya inspired me to ask how I can be a rainbow to others. It sounds sappy now, but she gave the metaphor life and substance.

I wonder how some (like Maya) travel through this life with more hardships than I can image yet persevere and succeed despite those troubles. The word resilient comes to mind, but even more than the ability to recover from difficulties, it is transcending those experiences. Perhaps it is because of (rather than in spite of) those struggles that some of us become fully actualized. She had me looking at my path and toward the future, trying to find ways to apply my own struggles toward achieving my dreams..... just grinning at the possibilities.

Morning Meditation

Hit snooze five times
finally pry myself out of warm bed
groggily dress, brush, sip Morning Thunder tea
late already again
turn ignition, radio blares
push in daily drive to work soundtrack
"Buddha's dream" with flute and birds in background
Breathe
take turns, slowly
in a hurry but already late so....
accelerate around traffic circle #1
circle #2
chuckle at myself for meditating while driving
hit every stop light
an opportunity to reflect
cars turn across from me
their motion like waves hitting the shore
again and again
turn another circle
get stuck behind an old soul going 10
breathe
break
may you be filled with loving kindness
may you be well
may you learn to drive
oops
may you be peaceful and at ease
may you be happy
find parking spot up close
climb stair after stair
squirrel dashes to my right
sun peeks out from clouds
one more breath
deep
and I am here

Time is on my side...

Yes it is! I just had the most wonderful weekend. Wonderful not because of something I did, but wonderful because of what I didn't do. I didn't spend hours in a brightly lit store, I didn't drink myself silly, I didn't spend so much time doing that I forgot to just be.
I sipped tea, painted and sketched a little, wrote, read, and relaxed. Not worrying about what happenings I was missing out on or catching up with friends. I stayed in the moment and just chilled. And I caught myself saying on Sunday- it feels like it's been a long weekend. I was actually ready to go back to work.

Got me thinking about how we choose to spend our time. We all know those white rabbit types: "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date." Sometimes I slip into that mode, shoulders tight, mind overoccupied and forget where the hell I am not to mention where I'm going. Why do we do that to ourselves? There's lots to do- beautiful, wonderful things, but in our relentless search aren't we less likely to enjoy those things? I once went to three parties in one evening. Didn't really enjoy myself at any one of them- so preoccupied with the next and/or previous good time.


Sometimes I feel like someone born in the wrong era. I can see myself as one of those dreamy characters in an early nineteenth century novel who spends days lying by a creek somewhere counting dragon flies and sketching architecture in the distance. I'm sure this is just my romantic notion of those "olden times." People were probably just as busy- just with other forms of entertainment than we find ourselves engaged with. Maybe they were so busy trying to make a living, farming say, that they actually had less time to spare than we do.

Perhaps it's what you spend your time doing that makes you more or less overwhelmed. And back to my original point- time really is on our side. If the white rabbits in my life want to be white rabbits because they just enjoy that busy life I won't argue with them. All I know is when I slow down enough to enjoy the moment, I feel content. It's like my old pal Henry David Thoreau once said,

"When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of reality."

Grover Phone Home

Went to check on Grover (the lizard) a few nights ago and found him stuck to the cage door, not responding to movement. So, I wheeled his cage out of the garage and into the cold night, eventually transporting him into the warm house. Must have been quite a shock to his system because he started twitching, fell on his back (which is something lizards, like cats, just don't do) and looked like he was starting to "phone home."
[Remember that scene from ET when all the guys in the white suits are checking him out and his skin is grayish, and he looks incredibly dehydrated? That was Grover]

Thoughts like, I can't believe I killed my lizard and where the hell do you bury a 4 ft iguana? raced through my head. We threw a towel over his cage so that he could die in peace and so that I could stop the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. A few moments passed without a sound so I peeked behind the towel and watched the last breath go out of him- black spots began to form on his grayed skin. I almost gave up on him, but then I remembered the mister- Grover loves to be misted. Maybe it would bring him back. I misted harder than I've ever misted before, each pump of the miniature spray bottle was like a gust of life blown into his face. I imagined having to give mouth to nose (without getting salmonilla) or CPR (where is that tiny Grinch heart?) Finally, Grover came back. Slowly, groggily, he awakened. I wondered where he had been. So, asked.

ME: So, you were out for about 3 minutes, where did you go?
GROVER: I was lounging in the tropics, where do you think I was?
ME: Well, I was just wondering what it was like to go to the "other side." What did you see?
GROVER: There was a dark tunnel, and then I saw this bright light. I was running, but I couldn't get to the bright light fast enough because I was in slow motion.
ME: So, the dark tunnel was purgatory and the bright light was heaven?
GROVER: I was kind of thinking the dark tunnel was this freezing cold cage and the bright light was the sun.
ME: So, then what happened?
GROVER: Just when I began to pick up speed, I felt cold rain and something grabbing my tail, pulling me back away from the warmth.
ME: and then?
GROVER: Then I woke up to your big head peering in at me and knew I was back in hell or purgatory, as you call it.
ME: It could be worse
GROVER: Yeah? How?
ME: You could be out in the cold garage.
GROVER: Just do me a favor and keep me in the house in the winter, huh?
ME: From now on, I will- you have my word.
GROVER: If you don't, I might have to phone home again.

There you have it- once again Groverino narrowly escaped death. My seven year old lizard seems destined to survive in a climate that clearly was not intended to be his home. His idea of heaven is not unlike my own- escaping the dank, dark cold to live in the warmth of the big bright orb in the sky. We'll both get there, eventually....

My February Challenge

is to be frugal. I'm not talking about buying the $30 jeans over the $50 jeans. I'm talkin bout buying neither. I'm talkin bout really limiting my spending habits this month. Why? Because I realized I spend way too much money on crap. I buy stuff I like, but what's up with that empty feeling after a shopping spree, that constant quest for more?

A few months ago I heard a story on NPR about this group of friends who made a pact not to spend money on anything but necessities for a year. They ended up doing quite a lot of bartering and begging and found out that people are more generous than they thought. So, they spent all year just buying food and essentials and at the end of the year they decided to renew their pact and keep living simply.

The funny thing is- why is that so remarkable and difficult? It struck me as an incredible feat, but what were they really doing but being smart, frugal consumers? Why is it so hard to spend one week- let alone a weekend- without dipping into that already meager checking account for- you name it- DVD's, clothes, books? If you're like me, sometimes you get home from a shopping excursion with a bag full of things you really don't need. I joke with myself that one day I'll come home with something I donated to the Goodwill two weeks before!

What is it that "retail therapy" does for us? It fills a void like any other mindless addiction. The trouble is that our society is set up to accept this addiction unlike any other. Our economy depends on it. But, no I will not blame society or the media for this- instead, I'm going to see how difficult it is to refrain from giving in to my inner shopper. Me, who spent half of my adolescent life inside a mall. I'm going to abstain from further damaging my alleged savings account and see what happens.

The rules (set forth by me)
1. No buying of any clothing of any kind
2. No frivolous buying of food stuffs.
3. No dining out unless absolutely necessary- if say, the power goes out or I find myself dangerously low on blood sugar.
4. No buying of books or magazines.
5. No paying for entertainment

We'll see what happens- maybe I'll live the way I've always wanted- for (nearly) free. Probably, I won't decide to keep this up all year, but you never know. Baby steps...