money

Well, I bought an electric scooter. As soon as I got it home I started spiralling over the fact that I’d just spent so much on this “investment” - almost 2 months worth of rent gone in a flash. Seeing my savings running out, seeing how little I’ve been making back, seeing this bulky ass thing in my room that I now had to worry about. What if a tire pops? What if the motor stops working? So much anxiety coming up, feeling trapped and caged in my circumstances, wanting to run and get away but not knowing where to go. And the shame, the regret! It was awful. I felt alone. I browsed reddit and watched old Chappelle stand-ups to distract myself before eventually searching for viable money making solutions online. It was well after midnight and I was wired. The old fear response had me in its grip.

While scooting around today, I came across a man standing at the side of a busy street telling passerbys in a friendly voice “I don’t want any money!” while shaking a pair of bright red maraccas. He said it to me and I nodded to him before gliding away, feeling both amused and obscene on my accursed new ride. I stopped at the intersection and watched him for a few minutes before deciding to go back. Something had opened up in me that morning. I was feeling playful and curious again and I wanted to engage with this strange man that life had placed along my path today of all days. So I scooted over and asked him about himself.

He told me that he was traveling around the world spreading his message: that money cuts us off from unconditional love. He said that he accepted food from people but no money. He held up his fingers and started listing off the provinces he’d already been through and his plans to cross into the US before heading to South America and Africa to spread his message there. He told me all the places he planned to go over the next 8 years of his life and elaborated on his feelings around money.

I mostly listened and nodded while asking questions. His responses were vague at times but I understood what he was trying to say. I noticed his eyes - they looked clear, innocent and intelligent. I didn't notice anything unhinged in them and I wasn't getting any weird vibes. He struck me as almost modest. It was hard to tell how old he might've been. I would've guessed he was in his early 30’s if not for the gray hair and missing teeth, which I suppose could have come from his lifestyle.

I asked him if he feels better now than he did when he had money. He said yes - that sometimes he went hungry but people gave him food and he always found places to sleep. I wondered if he had left a family and friends behind so he could do what he was doing now. The last thing he told me was that we had to start with loving ourselves before spreading that love to everyone around us. I gave him a final nod and told him I would try.

As I scooted away I thought about buying a meal after working and bring it to him. It was hard to deny what an odd and serendipitous encounter it was. I was feeling light again at least - the previous night's episode already seeming like a distant nightmare. I was singing as I glided down the road, enjoying the feel of the wind rushing by, thinking about how interesting it might be to get to know him while sharing a meal.

It didn't end up happening. By the time I finished for the day I was tired and it was dark, our conversation feeling like another distant dream. I stopped and considered it for another minute before deciding he'd probably have moved on anyways. I kicked off and scooted home.

He’s out there right now, sleeping outside somewhere in the cold. Tomorrow it’ll be raining and he’ll be continuing on his journey, shaking his red marraccas and letting people know that he doesn’t want any money.