Wealthy

Happy New Year! I had been away while life took me on a roller coaster ride that kept me from sharing anything coherent for months. 
This is my first post in a while, and I hope you enjoy it. I will be posting regularly from here on out (Thanks in part to a New Year's Resolution about creativity...) 

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It's Sunday, and so far, I've met my goals of creating something (new or continuing)  every day. I'm looking forward to working on my jewelry commission tonight. It was very nice sitting under the lamp at the desk with the vanilla bean black tea.  <3

I don't have much money in the bank. I'm always thinking ahead about how to pay the next bill or keep from spending just so that I can have a little more wiggle room.

But I realized a few days ago that I am actually quite wealthy, yes... even in material things.

I've collected many random household items from different parts of my life over the years when I had an extra 10 dollars or so. They were for situations like dorm rooms... random splurges, attempts to keep myself looking presentable when I was in my hair-wrapping stage and couldn't' afford the money or time to do anything with it. etc.  (One 5 dollar scarf is now a runner and looks very nice as it hangs down from its place on the armoire.)

As I was cleaning up, I pulled these things out and re-purposed them.
Some of them are very nice things. Most of them are very cheap or even free because whoever had them was giving it away or was desperate to sell it, thinking it wasn't worth much to them, anymore.

My room contains many things like this... and many gifts which I display proudly because the people who gave them to me are worth more than their weight in pure gold..

I wake up and open the armoire... I pour some water from the nearly 20 year old painted glass water dispenser into a fancy teacup. I take my medication. I close the armoire. If that dispenser could talk, it would ask me what took me so long to use it . I would answer that I was a child when I bought it, and that it did a wonderful job displaying the bookmarks and dice that it held for many years. It feels like it winks knowingly at me every time I use it, now. It has seen a lot and has been waiting decades for this moment.

Later I will put on some music and pour some very nice tea.

My clothes don't have holes. I look nice in them. They suit me.  It wasn't that way for a long time. When did that change?

I pad across the rug...look out the window at the trees. Look at the burgundy walls that always make me think of another place and time. They were quickly painted and it shows, but they are covered in canvas paintings and other things that are nice to look at. I made some of them, myself.

When I leave the room, I will carry a cane. I made sure it was a classic black. It cost me 17 dollars and collapses conveniently when I travel. Worth the money. I will wear a wool coat in the cold that I bought 100 dollars cheaper than it was worth because it was the spring at the time. The car I drive isn't mine. My phone is a blessed luxury.

My black scarf sways as I walk, and I wear it tucked or hanging down my shoulders like a gentleman. It's thin, but it is best that way. I thank it for being so durable for all of the things I put it through.

When I go to the coffee shop, I get the least expensive item:  hot tea. And I sit there and talk or look at the news until my back says "enough".

They know me by now. They greet me and offer me the usual as if I were a wealthy person who will give their business more than 2 dollars, that day.

The Vietnamese restaurant is the same way. When I can go they greet me by name--even over the phone-- and are always gracious even though I will always buy their cheapest appetizer...to go. I miss sitting at the table with the jasmine tea. I really do. But I can't afford to tip.

When I get home, I will work on a jewelry commission which I fear will cost the customer over 100 dollars for the set. I don't even like to charge my customers very much. Often I sell things at a loss to myself.

I secretly hate money. I am not a capitalist at heart.

I just want a good life. One with a few comforts and a lot of laughter.

And then I come home to my room, where I am warm... hang up my coat.... and think... "I have more than just a few comforts... I am wealthy! Look at everything in here...I live like a prince with my teacup that I use to take mere medication!!"

And I go to my altar, light the candles which I fear to burn for very long, burn off a few sticks of incense bought in bulk... ring the bells... and bow in deep, deep gratitude.

I was able to spend money this month as I was out with a friend, as if I were very wealthy. And that is all... because Kami has kept from me how materially wealthy I am, while driving home every single day that the experiences I have and the people around me are like living breathing diamonds.

And both can be gone in an instant. I can be friendless, without help, and with no warm place to go, in rags.

It's happened before.

But Kami has given me a way to avoid this: I can sell the works of my own hands without performing heavy labor. I can sell them at a profit if I am wise. I can always show the depths of my fragile heart to others --again, in a careful way- and never be alone. There will be a smile waiting for me somewhere in the world. No matter if I am under a bridge one day, I will never need to cry because of loneliness, which scares me more than anything.

I have a job right now that I do not work with my body, because I lay on a couch... I work it with my heart. And I am paid well for the use of my heart to strangers in difficult life stages.

I think about that: I am paid to be wise and kind. I am paid to help others. And I am treated just as kindly by those who pay me to do that.

I am a fragile-minded person who is prone to anxiety and depression, who has a heart that often gets me in trouble, and a mind that is prone to wander off into fantasy. And yet, I can make a living with these "flaws".

Kami is great and merciful.... even to someone as little as me.