Like most people, I've had money on the brain lately. Recession, gas prices, economic stimulus, housing market, job market... if I weren't already meticulously evaluating my financial situation on my own (including, as the last blog indicates, calculating what I pay for the square footage in my storage unit), then the news outlets would still be pushing me toward financial obsession. It seems that every third news story relates to the state of our economy and how it's impacting the average family.
During hard financial times, we all seem to pay more attention to money and its role in our lives. Well, duh, right? Some people are comfortable with money and enjoy the pursuit of it -- getting a little thrill when a stock goes up, or the savings account reaches a particular goal. Some people are more reticent about money, viewing it as a necessary evil and even feeling embarrassed or resentful that they need it to survive. At both ends of the spectrum, and everywhere in between, one thing that seems broadly true about money is that it quickly taps into some pretty deep-seated emotions.
I like to think of money as more neutral, almost like a language. It can be used to express strong ideas and values, good and bad, but it isn't good or bad in itself. Money communicates issues that might otherwise have no voice. And in times where money is more scarce, we hear the messages more loudly.
Money expresses our values and personalities. We purchase things that express who we are as people - clothing, cars, furniture, vacations, even our choice of the home in which we live says something about who we are. I have friends who wouldn't trade their enormous televisions (complete with surround-sound home theater system) for the world; and others who can't phathom needing more than a 27" screen, but can spend thousands on backpacking gear or a nice camera.
A friend once told me that "money is a way in which we honor one another's creativity," and I love that idea. When you download a song or purchase a piece of artwork, you're not only bringing something you enjoy closer to you, you're also casting your vote that the artist or musician should thrive and continue creating.
But money means more to us than just the acquisition and consumption of "stuff." It can reflect our feelings of security or fear; prosperity or scarcity; generosity or greed. I've known people who have very little and still give generously of themselves each day -- whether it's contributing their time and money to charity, or just picking up the tab at dinner with friends. I've also known those who have an abundance, but live in constant worry that they will lose everything, that it will never be enough. It seems to me that when it comes down to it, very little of that is about the actual numbers; but can often be attributed to something a little deeper.
Could our attitudes towards money reflect our basic view of the world, even our faith in ourselves? Could paying attention to how we handle financial issues help us create insight about work, relationships, our sense of purpose? Is it possible that when we tell ourselves "I will never have enough," what we mean is, "I will never be enough"?
In the therapy and coaching world, we pay attention to those underlying messages conveyed by currency. Even in the therapeutic relationship itself, money is one of many indicators about how urgent a particular issue is, or how commited a client is to change. When a client decides to save money by cutting back on how often they come in, for example, that is often a sign of something. One possibility is that the process has been successful: things are improving, life has stablized, and the client can now focus on other, more pressing things.
Another possibility is the opposite scenario - the client is not seeing improvements and may be feeling discouraged; or no longer finds the therapy or coaching as valuable as it originally was. Sometimes it feels 'easier' to cut back on therapy for financial reasons than to confront a coach or therapist about not feeling fully satisfied with the results. By picking up on this, and talking to the client about it, a therapist can begin understanding the client's view and possibly take the opportunity to change directions and make the process more impactful.
Any therapist, travel agent, or spa worker can tell you this about money: It is a way of quantifying our priorities. When things are tight, we typically cut the things from our budget that are perceived as expendable. This might mean switching from $4 lattes to home-brewed coffee; waiting an extra week or two for a haircut; or opting for a DVD rental instead of a night at the movies. I've noticed that for many busy people, these cutbacks all too often include lowering our level of self-care -- sacrificing opportunities for recreation, relaxation, exercise, quality time with family or other healthy activities.
So, how do we keep our balance during hard times? Well, I'm still struggling with this one myself. My guess is that part of it is in knowing what is really most important, and putting a priority on keeping our deepest commitments to ourselves and those we love. We can do our best to plan for the long term based on those priorities and spend or save accordingly. And for me, it helps to keep in mind that sometimes, money speaks louder on my behalf than I realize.
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