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Money and Control

posted 30th June 2010    Written by: Heather Rae    CATEGORY: Heather Rae, Money, Season 2

Money and I have an interesting relationship.  I mean, I like money.  It’s great to have around when I need to do something like, say, pay the rent.  But, other than that, I kind of wish it had no part in my life.  Seriously.

Like most people, I struggle with a lifelong love-hate relationship with cash. I want it.  I want lots and lots of it.  But not so that it can be front and center in my life.  Rather, because I want the chance to completely forget about it — for once.

If my friends were to choose one word to describe how I handle my finances, they’d probably choose one of these:  frugal, cheap, careful, thrifty…or, perhaps, tight-ass.  And if we’re being honest here, I’d have to admit they’re right.  The reason I hate money is not because I don’t have enough.  For all intents and purposes, I do.  It’s because I don’t feel like I have enough.

Between having parents that fought about money pretty much every day and having a mother that told me, “It’s just as easy to marry for a rich man as it is a poor man”, I imagine it was somewhat inevitable for me to end up having anxiety when it comes to handling my finances.

There was a plus side to this.  I became fiercely financially independent.  I learned to save.  (And I mean seriously save.)  With the exception of a few student loans, I carry no debt.  I don’t use credit cards unless I can pay them in full at the end of the month.  And I’ve never depended on a beau to support me.  Never.

But then, that’s also the problem.  This fierce need to be independent, to never ask for help, to do it all on my own — well, it’s tiring.  And not only for me.  It’s tiring for my fiancé, too.

Let me give you an example.  As you know, I left my job in February.  Before making that decision, I saved for two years.  I had enough money to support my lifestyle for a year before having to return to work.

I’d say it was about two weeks after leaving my job that I broke down in tears, sobbing to the fiancé that I was afraid we’d run out of money before the year was up.  He said, “Heather, how much money do you have?”  (After a freak out like that, he was worried that perhaps I was right.)  So I told him.  He looked at me, confused.  “So what are you worried about again?”

I knew I had enough money to last the year.  But that didn’t stop me from breaking down and freaking out.

And just to make my point really clear, I’ll give you another example.  My fiancé and I are very careful to live below our means.  We figure it’s better to have extra money than risk not having enough.  Because of this, we could easily get by on one income.

You might think this would make me happy.  When the year is up and my savings run dry, I could potentially count on his income to carry us through as I continue pursuing my writing goals.  We’ve discussed this possibility.  He fully supports me and encourages me to keep doing what makes me happy and not worry about going back to work.

But instead of being happy about this, I stress.  And I nag, and I worry.

I don’t know how to let go of control when it comes to money.  I don’t know how to trust someone else to pay the bills, to take care of me, to be there for me.  And if I do.  If I let go of that control and let him take care of me, does that somehow make me weak?  Am I setting myself up for financial disaster in the future?  Am I letting another person have too much control over my life?

Yeah.  You could say I have money issues.  (And trust issues.  And control issues.  And all sorts of other issues.)

All I can tell you is I’m working on it.  I’m not there yet, but I really am making progress.  In some ways, walking away from my job was the best decision I could ever have made.  And I’m not saying that because I’m taking an opportunity to chase my dreams.  (Though that’s wonderful, too.)  Rather, It’s forced me to face my control issues head on.

I’ve had to let go of the security that comes with a stable job and learn to deal with questions. (Will this book ever sell?  Can I make it as a writer?  What if I run out of money?  Can I allow myself to trust that I don’t have to do this alone?)  So many questions.  More questions than answers.

Facing these uncertainties has helped me to make progress in so many ways.  Little by little, day by day, I feel myself letting go.  I feel myself getting more comfortable with uncertainty. And, honestly, if things do go terribly wrong, I’m pretty sure I would handle it better than I would have prior to this experience.

It’s funny how that works sometimes.  I left my job for no other reason than to chase a few dreams.  And I’ve ended up getting so much more from that decision.  Now that’s a good thing.

photo credit: Toban Black

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The $60 Pot Of Tea

posted 29th June 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: Job/Career/Work, Money, Nicole Antoinette, Season 2

There’s a tea house here in San Francisco that sells, among it’s regularly priced items, a $60 pot of tea.

When I first saw it on the menu, I thought it had to be a typo. I mean, $60? For tea? I called the waitress over and asked and she told me that no, it wasn’t a typo and that a singular pot of that particular tea really did cost $60. I stared at her. She stared back.

I asked if the tea would either a) make me high or b) come over and do my laundry. She said no. I told her I was kidding. She didn’t laugh.

But I did. Well, until I didn’t. Until I realized that there are seriously people out there who spend $60 on tea. $60! On! Tea! Maybe everyone who does this is considerably older than me, I thought. Or maybe they’re trust fund babies. Or maybe they just know what in the hell they’re doing when it comes to being 25 and being smart with money at the same time.

Not that I’m bad with money, I’m not. I’m a meticulous (read: anal) budget keeper, I pay my quarterly taxes on time, I don’t have any credit card debt, and I still can’t fathom being able to spend $60 on tea without having a stroke over it. Being 25 feels like a weird financial age. It feels like an age where if you took a sample of the financial situations of the people I spend my time with, everything would be scattered and you wouldn’t get anything close to equal results.

In college, I felt like people were more or less operating on similar budgets – namely, everyone was broke.

Being broke was almost the hip-ish thing in college, wasn’t it? We all bonded by complaining about how expensive everything was, searching out the best possible drink deals, and signing for student loans we couldn’t imagine having to pay back. But after we graduated, we all went in different directions. I have friends who went the serious relationship route, joining their finances with someone else and plunging on toward marriage. I have friends who went straight to grad school, friends who jumped into the corporate thing, friends who moved back in with their parents, and then there’s me. I went from graduating early to a series of non-traditional jobs, one after another, and I’m still following a similarly road-map-free path. I’ve never had a 401K, never had any formal financial guidance, and am only now starting to give some thought to how I’m ever going to get out from under my student loans.

Which is why this little tea incident got me thinking. I mean, if being able to taste $60 tea without simultaneously crying about potentially being homeless is on my goal list, I should probably start forging a path to get there.

The hardest thing for me when it comes to money, though, is trying to figure out where to start. It all just seems so… surreal. Having enough money to retire one day? Owning a house? Paying off my student loans? Thoughts like that seem like some sick fantasy land that I’ll never reach. I took this financial fitness quiz last night, out of curiosity, and I scored a 51. Out of 100. Which seems like a rather epic failure, but apparently I’m pretty in line with other people in their 20s, struggling to find that balance between playing hard now and saving hard for later.

I find that that’s the biggest difference between people my age when it comes to money – the now vs. later question. I have some friends who will run up their credit cards for a good time, and then I have other friends who won’t pay more than $20 for dinner. Would it be easier if we were all in the same financial situation? Sure.

But, more than anything, I think it would be easier if money weren’t such a taboo topic, if friends were more comfortable discussing it in detail as if it were any other conversation.

*Disclaimer: This post is part of the 20SB Blog Carnival: Friends & Money, sponsored by Charles Schwab. Prizes may be awarded to selected posts. The information and opinions expressed in this post do not reflect the views or opinions of Charles Schwab. Details on the event, eligibility, and a complete list of participating bloggers can be found here.*

{photo credit: Photos8.com}

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My Silent Meditation Retreat: What I Learned

posted 25th June 2010    Written by: Molly Mahar    CATEGORY: Inspiration, Molly, What I've Learned

Warning: This post will probably be full of contradictions… You’re getting my raw feedback to last’s weeks retreat and I’m still processing a lot of what I heard, what I learned about myself, and what difference it will have on my life.

I realize that this post is going to bring up a bunch of questions for you. Well, lovely snickerdoodle, let me tell you in advance, I do not have the answers. When you comment, I’ll do my best to give you my opinion or take on the whole shebang, but this is my own exploration as well.

I’m soaking in new ways of thinking about life and pondering integration with my current reality and mission for this company. I definitely don’t have the answers!

Also, I’m making absolutely no claim to expertise about Buddhism, practicing the dharma path, or Vipassana meditation. I’m was just a girl, sitting and walking and trying not to slurp my soup, in silence for 7 days at this retreat with these amazing teachers: Rodney and Heather.

The actual physical experience of being on retreat was interesting. Interesting and hard and insightful and sometimes downright boring. Over and over, I sat for 45 minutes and then walked for 45 minutes, all the while meditating.  Meditating basically meant I was trying to concentrate my “puppy mind” (Come back little unruly puppy! Stay! Sit! Where have you gone puppy mind?! COME I say!) on my breathe.  In Vipassana meditation, the awareness of your present reality is allowed to rest on your breath, the manifestation of pain/discomfort in your body, or in noticing your physical senses (hearing, smell, etc) but that is all. Each time that awareness wonders, you acknowledge that you were thinking or fantasizing or remembering or planning and then bring it back to the breath.

So I sat on my mat for 45, walked for 45, sat for 45 and so on from 5:45 am to 9:45 pm. We listened to Dharma talks from Heather and Rodney each night. We had two personal 15 minute interviews over the course of the week (I could talk!) to ask questions about the retreat itself, Buddhism in general, and the crazy ass saga dreams I was having about saving the world (common theme of mine), having twin baby girls, and skiing/kicking some ninja ass at Starbucks with Ev’Yan and Jonathan.

(Apparently, really vivid dreams are common… And no, I’m not preggo. And kicking ninja butt was ridiculously fun with fabulous people! Seriously, you guys, my dreams were a-mah-zing…)

What else? I keep getting emails asking me how the retreat went, so although I wasn’t sure I wanted to share, I’m braving this very muddled post and just diving in.   There was delicious vegetarian meals, shower houses, gorgeous rain forests to stroll, peaceful raccoons chasing the kid carrying the compost buckets, sleeping on the top bunk, sneaking a few journal entries, and lots and lots of silence. And tea.  It was freezing and I swear I drank 10 cups of tea a day.  Sometimes my walking meditation turned into tea-drinking meditation…

So what did I learn? Well, briefly, lots. The following points are in no particular order, but they are what keep running through my mind. Most ideas are from either Rodney or Heather during their dharma talks, and a few are thoughts that came up while I was there.  And at this point, it’s all woven together so I probably can’t tell you what I heard versus what popped into my head. That was the most confusing paragraph ever.

Deep breath.   Here goes!

It’s okay to start something new, whatever your age, whether you know a little or a lot about it. Sometimes a calling or a hunch or a spark is all you have and all you need to start. Don’t be afraid or let your previous opinions hold you back from exploring something new. Newness is what keeps us alive and curious and passionate about life.

Being, not doing, is what life is all about. Part of living a life examined, a life on purpose, a life free of struggle, is to STOP doing and just be. Practice being.

I have a real issue about getting/doing things right. This is one of those things I’ve learned about myself and it keeps coming up and holding me back. How the hell do you get “a meditation retreat” right? How does one get a new business “right”? What does that even mean? What am I judging myself so harshly upon?

Give up trying to control your life. We give our happiness away on external circumstances. We invest everything in our circumstances and spent our lives pursuing the pleasant and avoiding the unpleasant. The catch is that we’re fooled into believing we can manipulate it all, when in fact, we can’t. We are at the mercy of our circumstances and when things don’t go as planned (which, face it, happens all the time, even with the best of intentions!) we get frustrated, depressed, and blame ourselves. The freedom we seek is in the experience of life, of simply being with everything that comes up, and not tying our happiness to controlling our external circumstances.

We each possess the full range of human emotions. What do you do when painful feelings come up? Rage, lust, envy, self doubt, fear, or sadness? You stay with them, holding them lovingly in your heart, with an open curiosity and wonder.  Just because they arise does not mean you have to act on them or give them importance.

Freedom. It’s a state of BEING, not doing. It’s being content. Being peaceful. Being compassionate. Being interconnected, both with yourself and with others.

A lot of the time, ambition and creativity are exclusive of each other. It doesn’t mean we have to give up making plans, going after dreams, moving forward– but we may have to examine HOW we’re taking action.  Is it full of internal struggles? Doubt? Can we alleviate some of that suffering by being present to each moment, without giving it a label of bad or good?  Can we be creative for the sake of being creative and not let ambition mix up the process?

Everyone has their own story, but life is bigger than all our stories. Compassion stems from knowing, deep in your heart, that everyone is exactly like you.  They dream, cry, have children, get frustrated, make love, crave peace, are born, and will die.   When we hold tight to our particular story, our way of doing things, our insistence that our opinions are right, we are disconnecting from the bigger picture, from life itself.  Recognize that you can live life beyond the limits of your story.

Umm.   Well.   Do you have enough to think about?  I sure as hell know I do!

I went to the retreat hoping for a little peace, but also intrigued by the spiritual beliefs behind the meditation I practice. What draws me to practicing the dharma is that there’s no worship involved. Yes, there’s bowing and Buddha statues and respect, but when it gets down to it– it’s a practice, a way of experiencing things for yourself in your quest for connection, for peace.

Opening the floor for questions and comments…

photo credit:h-k-d

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Practicing Passion And Action

posted 24th June 2010    Written by: Katie    CATEGORY: Inspiration, Katie, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 2, What I've Learned

Whenever someone is good at what they do, they’re said to have passion. Moreover, when they do something admirable, a firm “Way to take action!” is thrown in their direction.  Passion and action are two things that have driven me my entire life – just not at the same time. Unfortunately, until recently, I didn’t realize that though I was being driven, it was mostly in one big huge circle.

When I was in grade school, I was placed in smart kid classes. They were called “Academically Talented” classes, but the other kids just called them “smart kid classes”.  Of course, when they said “smart kid classes” they’d turn their sarcasm level on high to match the position of their nose in the air. I get more honor out of being in the classes now than I did then because I now realize the importance of intelligence and being recognized for such talents.

Regardless of the lack of due respect from my peers, I still went to the classes. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to be “normal”, “regular”, “average”, even.  I took the action everyday to go to the classes, mostly because I had to. What I was lacking was the passion to make the best of the situation. I could have cared less about what my grades were in that class, because they always got rounded up to A’s.

I continued in the smart kid classes up until my sophomore year in high school. My success in the classes eventually went down the toilet because I never gained passion for being smart. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t look at being in these classes as recognition so much as segregation. Eventually, I was placed where I always wanted to be – with the average kids. As much as I banked on things being better, they weren’t.

5 years later, when I was 22, I found myself in a dead end job. I wanted so much more out of my life. All day long, in place of work, I’d think back to my younger years and remember that I wanted to be a dancer (without the pole), a teacher, and a master of computer repair. I had wished I had more passion. I had plenty of it at 22. I wanted out of that job, out of unhealthy relationships, out of the life slump that I was in. I’d dream of my life being enjoyable, of waking up everyday and wanting to go to a job that I loved.

Unfortunately, with all of this determination, drive and passion, I didn’t take any action at all. I stayed at my dead end job, until I reached the dead end, and I had no where to go.

Over the next 3 years as I went through my Quarter Life Crisis alone before I knew that it even existed, I would teeter between having a lot of passion with no follow through, and a whole lot of action toward a non-existent goal; without passion. I was too down on life and myself to realize that no matter what I did, I still wasn’t happy and that something had to change.

The realization that I had to combine passion and action didn’t hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t have an “a-ha” moment – or at least not a dramatic one. Recently, I’ve been trying to do more things that I want to do. If I want to go to bed early, I do. Id I want to look into going to college, I do. If I want to dance naked around my bedroom to Michael Bolton, I do.

In the same light, if I have to do something that I don’t necessarily have the choice to do, like not-so-fun project, or tedious favor for someone, I don’t “just do it”. I get myself into a state of “want to” and realizing that sometimes there are things that you have to do. I inject a little passion into my veins (metaphorically), and I do whatever it is that needs to be done. I’ve noticed that even those mundane things are more fun to do, and the completed project is of much higher quality than it would have been without passion.

It took me 25 years to learn, but the lesson is life changing. My quality of life has increased a boat-load. I do things that I’m passionate about, and I’m passionate about things that I (have to) do.

Passion and Action just go together. Kind of like peanut butter and jelly, pen and paper, and sour cream and…well, anything.

(photo credit: via)

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Thoughts on Love

posted 23rd June 2010    Written by: Heather Rae    CATEGORY: Heather Rae, Love/Relationships, Season 2

Have you ever wondered how different life would be if you said I love you more, gave more hugs, told people what they meant to you without a second thought?  I have.

Perhaps it’s just me.  I’m an introvert.  And I tend to be shy.  So I often keep my thoughts to myself.  I let them run around a few times in my mind before I ever let them out.  And by then, they’ve been edited.  Sometimes, I really wish I wouldn’t do that.  I wish I would say the things I’m thinking without censoring myself. I wish I would be open, completely open, with the people I love.

For that matter, I really wish I would tell the people I love that they’re part of that circle in the first place.

There are a few in my life that I’m totally and completely comfortable being all sappy with.  I tell them I love them every chance I get, I hug them at every opportunity, I let them know how much they mean to me.  And I’ll let any random thought that comes to mind slip out without a second thought.  But those people are few and far between.

Actually, I’d limit it to one.  Make that two.

But then there are others, those that I assume must know how I feel.  I don’t need to say it.  They get it.  Whatever. I wave it off as a whatever, like it doesn’t matter.  But it does.  Think about it.  When someone takes the time to tell you that you mean a lot to them, to say that you matter, how does it make you feel? I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel pretty damn good.  I smile.  I’m happy.

I don’t assume that everyone has this issue, this inability to speak their mind, to release their feelings.  But I’m pretty sure I’m not completely alone in this either.  There is no lack of song lyrics that tell you to say what you need to say or ask how come we don’t say I love you enough.  And it often takes a large scale tragedy to wake us up and cause the phone lines to fill with calls home, people asking — are you okay?  And by the way, I love you, I really do.

Perhaps I’ve been thinking about this a lot because I’m in the process of moving, to a new city and a new state. And it’s far.  The last time I made a long distance move, I moved close enough that I could get back home by car.  It wasn’t that big a deal.  I knew if I got home sick I could hop in the Civic and be in the midst of visiting loved ones in four hours.

Because of this ability to drive home on a moment’s notice, I’ve developed two basic groups of friends.  I have my community of friends in the Los Angeles area, a place that I now call home (even if it did take six years for me to utter that phrase).  And I have my community of family and friends in Las Vegas.  Although not everyone is super close, most people aren’t that far either.

But this time I’m moving 1,200 miles away.  I won’t be able to drive back when I’m home sick. I’ll have to buy a plane ticket and make real plans.  That sounds easy enough.  But I’d bet we can all remember times we let friendships fall and relationships wither because someone moved.  It takes more effort, it becomes complicated, and eventually, it drops to the wayside.

I really don’t want that to happen.  And I certainly don’t want to leave with words unsaid.  I don’t want to leave friends not knowing how much they mean to me, not realizing that in the grand scheme of my life, they really matter.

And so, in my last couple of weeks in L.A., I’m giving myself an assignment:  tell everyone that matters that they do, in fact, matter to me.  And be genuine.  And real.  And honest.

Of course, this plan of action is easier said than done.  Genuine?  Real?  Honest?  We so often spend time hiding our feelings; it can be hard to dig out the truth.  But I’m going to do this — cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.  I figure the returns will be well worth the investment.

What about you?  Is there anyone you need to say I love you to?

photo credit: @ly$ in wonderland

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