It’s Monday morning and I am impatiently waiting on the postman to wander down my street and not pass my door. I can’t wait to hear him pushing two desperately awaited answers through the letterbox, my ears are straining to here that soft thud of envelopes on the floor.
Sadly I have to admit that my foot tapping inability to wait is not because I am hoping to hear from loved ones but rather unloved ones who owe me money. I know such a mundane topic, but one that seems to often dominate our lives, whether we like it or not. And although it is such a big part of everyday life money is often a taboo subject, something that people keep private. Oddly enough talking about money is considered more vulgar than debating sexual habits, desires and other personal issues.
It doesn’t seem to matter if someone has a purse filled with moths or lives like Dagobert Duck, jumping from springboards into wads of cash, their relationship with money is deeply personal. Interestingly enough a study has shown that although how you are raised with money influences how you deal with spending or saving your pennies people are born scrooges or squanderer. And your emotional state also plays its role on your purse strings. Happy, stable people feel less need to spend than those who are upset or depressed, as if defining your worth and well-being is directly linked to cents and euros.
In our economically challenged time money seems to bring out a lot of primal emotions like fear and anger. But American Philosopher Jacob Needleman argues that with the recession scratching on most peoples doors they will turn towards their internal resources which gives us a chance to redefine the importance of external ones like money. After all when asked most people don’t list money as one of the things that is most important in their lives, family, friends, fulfilling dreams, being a good person all rank higher up and earning millions doesn’t really appear on any bucket lists.
I am not a materialistic person, money is not something that drives me to do, create or be, but growing up with very little has taught me to appreciate it’s value and understand how having none can stifle you. So I work to live and not the other way around but when bills need to be paid and the red on my account turns a threatening dark crimson my primal emotion is anger towards those who have yet again forgotten to pay me what is owed.
So while I wait for the metaphorical penny to drop through my letter-box I do so because I need to pay my rent and not because it makes me happy. But I am sure a new pair of shoes would.