The Richest I’ve Ever Been & An Empty Bank Account

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A Friend’s Garden in Bx.

I sit on my Costco couch in California, staring at my altar made out of boxes that have been covered with a sarong and I can’t help thinking that I am the richest I have ever been. Having exhausted all of my financial avenues (minus that whole “finding a job” thing- because who does that?) I now stare at a dismal balance in my bank account.

I am going to be listing my expensive accessories and fancy dresses that are relics of a past life.

I don’t need any of it.

All those handbags on a shelf collecting dust…

That version of me that requires this to feel special/feel anything no longer exists.

Surrender.

The poorest I have ever been was when I would spend my weekends in desperate search of all those things I thought I needed. Once I made a purchase- I would immediately turn to acquiring the accessory or additional details that would make it even better.

Chasing that ever elusive satiation that never seemed to come.

I bought all the basics and topped it all with accouterments only to realize that I had filled my apartment with a whole bunch of useless crap. Rinse and repeat.

You can’t eat Louboutins. They will not comfort you when you are lonely.

Can You Buy Happiness at Bergdorf Goodman?

I walked around spiritually bankrupt in my fancy new clothes and no one questioned me then.

Mistrust All Enterprises That Require New Clothes.

I am a stripped down version of myself now. One that is stronger, more creative/innovative. A concentrated and potent me that’s cracked open in all the right places to let the wisdom, love, and the many blessings in.

A me who is not afraid of currently not having the physical presence of money.

This is all temporary. I know that money does not matter. The green pieces of paper are  meant to come and go.

I know that  at anytime, if I so desired, I could get a job. I could renounce this life and slip back into any 9 to 5 but I am not buying into that paranoia.

Beware if you are in the midst of the herd.

There is a peace within me. An eerie peace whose source I can’t seem to pinpoint because it is not my usual M.O. . It’s a god-given freedom, bliss, and happiness that renders me in complete trust.

Thank you God for the miracles you have made in my life so that I can be a blessing on the lives of others.

I believe.

My condition is set to improve exponentially. The best is yet to come.

There’s a sweetness to this time. I am savoring every moment of it.

I have been “poor” before. I have done the welfare thing. Both with the booklet of food coupons in a beautiful multicolor rainbow and when the conversion over to the EBT platform happened.

It does not scare me. I know that devil.

I also know that my family- has known abject poverty- the kind where there are dirt roads and you get around by mule.

The same version where you use a latrine out behind the tin roofed house.

You scrape the bottom of the rice pot to get the last bit that’s golden and clumped together-crispy crunchy rice. You know that that’s actually the best part and is called Concón.

My DNA is encoded with the stuff that makes up fighters and survivors-remnants of an ancestral memory that is pushing me towards self-realization.

It whispers in my ear: “Sweet child, life is such a blessing. Just to be breathing- you are wealthy beyond measure. Take this opportunity – we are all programmed for greatness. Show us what you are made of. Show us who you are destined to be. Fear not. We walk beside you.”

I guess what I am trying to say is that when life is a bit on the rough side- just know that you’ve got to scrape the bottom of the pot and know that only now are you getting to the truly good sh*t.

Dig in!

Say it with me: I LOVE MY LIFE! I LOVE MY LIFE!

I  L O V E  M Y  L I F E!!!!

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