The Conversation

To this day I am still not quite sure why this internal dialogue picked this exact moment in time to unveil itself to me. Maybe it was just long overdue or maybe it was ignited by the workshop I recently attended on "Creating a Prosperity Vision".

Consciously or subconsciously, it is undeniable that my relationship with money has always been a deep-rooted fear of mine. But the way the facilitator spoke with such passion and conviction about prosperity, wealth and material comfort made it difficult to avoid getting caught up in the excitement of it all.

Within moments of being there, I realized manifesting a prosperity vision was not something I was going to be able to do. Wealth as it turns out was a concept beyond my reach. I was so uncomfortable I couldn't even allow myself to imagine what affluence might feel like. I left the workshop, deflated. I had failed and failure was not something that I was accustomed to.

Right there and then I decided that I was going to examine my relationship with money. It was time to finally explore my money related fears and determine what was blocking me from saying yes to the possibility that wealth was something that I could accept and who knows, possibly even revel in.

That night I launched into a conversation with myself with such exuberance it could only be described as resembling a rocket ship exploding into orbit with a force beyond recognition.

"I am afraid."

"What are you afraid of?"

"A million things, but my biggest fear of all is money."

"Seriously, money? Really?"

"Yes, money, more specifically having too much of it."

"What? Who in their right mind is afraid of having too much money? That's absurd. How could having too much money be something to be afraid of? Money is power! Money is freedom! Money provides choices! Doesn't it?"

"That is exactly what people rolling in money want you to believe. They want you to believe that the "rich and famous" lifestyle they inhabit is the envy of any sane human being. But money changes you and not always for the better. What if I were unlucky enough to be gifted money? How scary would that be?

"What if having money transformed me into one of those people that I held in contempt my entire life? We all know them. The fake people, the pretentious kind, those that have no moral compass, ethically starved, self-absorbed. I could go on, but you get the picture.

"Don't you remember the Richardson family? Inherited a ton of money. I mean a ton! Filthy rich and self-absorbed. They lived on Baker Street in the oversized mansion that just screamed "look at me". The Richardson's were the farthest thing from the "salt of the earth" people that this town is made of. Proud, hard-working people. People who would give you the shirt off their back and never ask for anything in return. People you invite over for dinner, serve beans and wieners and they wouldn't even bat an eye. These are the people who have your back no matter what, even if you didn't have a pot to piss in, as Mom used to say.

"What if money changed all that? Changed me? What if I were no longer a "salt of the earth" person myself? I wouldn't be able to bear it. Better to have too little money than too much money. Life is just simpler that way."

"Wait now, hold on here. Not all people with money are self-absorbed and pretentious. That is a pretty big assumption you've got going on. What if you were to challenge that point of view?"

So, there it was. My inner voice had just issued me a challenge, one I would later come to realize was a challenge with a magnitude of a 6.2 earthquake. This challenge was going to shake my relationship with money to the core. I was totally unprepared for what was about to be unearthed.

"Challenge it? Challenge it how?", I continued.

"Why not write it down? Maybe in a little black book. You know, a journal. You could take all your money related fears and challenge your assumption that all rich people are self-absorbed, lazy, pretentious evil beings. What if wealth turned out to be a good thing? What if you became an even better person as a result?"

"Hmm, not an entirely bad idea. What harm could it do? Okay, off to the bookstore to buy myself a little black book I guess".

Arriving home, I ravenously ripped open the neatly wrapped package the sales assistant took such care to prepare and as I did with all my books, wrote my name on the inside cover.

I was eager to get started documenting the depths of my knowledge and experience of anyone and everyone I could think of that reeked of money, wealth and privilege. Starring at the blank pages, I wondered where to begin but it wasn't long before the words began to flow, dancing page after page as my inner sentiments and feelings were unleashed with such fury, I couldn't stop writing for days on end.

After several weeks of journaling, challenging my money related fears I found myself unaltered in my opinion. Day after day after day I noted more and more compelling evidence confirming my bias. People drowning in wealth were indeed self-absorbed! That's all there was to it!

Then one day it happened.

There was a knock on my door. A gentle knock, but a knock, nonetheless. Standing there, was Mr. Richardson with my little black book. The one I had spent hours tearing the house upside down looking for, every cushion overturned, every nook and cranny probed, asking everyone and their dog it they had seen it.

Yes, Mr. Richardson. Filthy rich Mr. Richardson. At my door! With my book! Yes, that same black book I had spent hours verifying the evils of affluence, including my disdain for Mr. Richardson. The same little black book with the gifted lottery ticket I strategically tucked inside permitting all the unbridled rage I authenticated page after page to deposit a curse on it.

You see, in my very twisted thought process, detailing all the lazy, self-entitled, upper class socialites would guarantee with 100% certainty that I was never going to turn into the likes of the Richardson's. Never, in a million years!

Well apparently, the universe had a different plan. The universe, with all its power and might, had something else in mind for me, something so unexplainable that to this day it continues to astonish me.

You see, the gifted lottery ticket tucked inside my little black book, unbeknownst to me, was a winning lottery ticket, mockingly in the hands of my arch nemesis, Mr. Richardson, who as you know is an arrogant scoundrel, exemplifying from my perspective anyway, the root of all evil.

Before I could say anything, Mr. Richardson handed me my little black book, lottery ticket still tucked inside and simply said, "Congratulations! I couldn't think of a more deserving winner".

There, starring me in the face with nowhere to hide, was my faulty assumption that money, or more specifically, that people with money, lots and lots of money are self-absorbed, egotistical, disingenuous creatures. I could no longer stand firmly rooted in my "all people with money are rotten to the core" belief system.

And just like that, my money related fears dissipated. I was finally able to let go and truly embrace the notion that money was not the root of all evil after all.