Having limited options comes with it’s own peculiar form of liberation. The realization that I may not be able to save myself requires letting that ‘option’ go and invites instead exploring what is left – living with intensity, integrity and focusing on what really matters.
I am one among legions of people who are struggling to get some kind of footing on an increasingly unstable financial scree slope. While it may be true that complete financial security is something most of us can only dream about, I believe that money in itself is not the biggest issue. There seems to be plenty to go around, but if we are all to benefit from it (if everyone’s survival needs are to be met) money must stay in circulation.
That said, I am not here to expound on how to solve our complex economic problems (not my area of expertise unfortunately) I am, however, determined to survive the madness of the ever widening gap between those whose survival needs are not even remotely under threat and those whose increasingly are. Rather than waste time complaining or arguing I would rather see what I can still do independent of the constraints placed on me.
A strange by product of financial insecurity for me is the welcome sense that there is still much adventure to be had and, therefore, a heightened sense of more living to be done. For most of what lights up our souls and makes us glad to be alive, fortunately, is not contingent on cash.
The light streaming in the window on these cool fall mornings, the sense of silent camaraderie I experience at the cafe with the guy who’s sharing my table, the smell of evergreens on the breeze as I walk home from work, all are invitations to connect, to engage with life – to experience a paradoxical sense of abundance.
F**k what you don’t have control over. Focus instead on where agency is available, figure out what has real, lasting value and be open to surprises because life rarely lives up to either our highest hopes or our worst fears. And when it does a good question to ask is ‘how can I help?’.