Money, PART II
“What would I do today if a million buckaroos dropped into my bank account?”
“What would I do today if a million buckaroos dropped into my bank account?”
My pondering began with a journal entry, got upgraded to a Pinterest board, and is on its way to becoming a full-blown Vision Board that I can hang on my wall.
It’s a shopping list, and that’s one way I answered that question.
While it features a handful of items ranging from the practical (a backpack repair) to the more luxurious (an espresso machine sounds nice!), the bulk of my list relates to travel and various supplies & classes for skills I want to develop.
I also thought about the organizations, artists, and musicians I want to support, so I made a giving list too.
Here’s my favorite realization from this exercise:
Not a single one of these items is a survival need. Ya know why? Because I consistently have enough for every single one of my basic needs.
I’m fine. With or without the additional buckaroos, I AM FINE.
All the same, “What would I do today if a million buckaroos dropped into my bank account?” had some fun energy to it, so I ran with the question.
What if - TODAY - I really did log into my bank account to find the pixels had organized themselves into something like $1,000,000?!
It turns out I don’t think I’d hit the button on all of those items on my wishlist. Huh.
Here’s what I think I’d actually do:
I’d extend today’s coffee shop time by ordering lunch. I would arrange dog care for Leo and book a North Shore getaway, aiming for the vicinity of Grand Marais or Grand Portage, where I’d spend a few days hiking to my heart’s delight, eating nice meals at the coziest restaurants around, and lingering over coffee & books.
During my getaway, I’d be on the lookout for clothing that suits my style, and a piercing salon so I can replace the earrings that fell out of my left ear.
I’d attend to some wishlist items: the books in my Better World Books account, a few Substack accounts I’d like to subscribe to, the espresso machine, and a cordless vacuum cleaner. I’d set up some donations while I was at it.
I know I said I’d linger at coffee shops with a book, but everything I know about myself suggests it’s more accurate to say: I’d be making plans to travel abroad to study Russian, and/or perhaps claim that Cornwall trip I’ve been hankering after.
With that clarity under my belt, I logged into my bank account. Not because I expected to find a million buckaroos ready for action. And, well, I didn’t.
One of the biggest money things I’ve worked on is actually looking at the numbers, and tending to the emotions that arise.
What I DID find is the number I more or less expected, based on my current income and expenses.
So I registered some disappointment. Because what I described above feels so GOOD, and I’m bummed that I don’t get to hit the go button on all of that today.
Then I pendulated to a sense of enough-ness. I have enough, right now, for everything I need. I’m fine.
All of those sentiments can be - and are - true, all at the same time.
The travel dreams will stay alive and well (they always do), and they’ll get booked in due course. I’ll keep chucking money into my “fun” account so I can make those wishlist purchases.
And no doubt about it, I’m going to enjoy the rest of my day, which features activities I genuinely love: hiking with Leo, sewing, time with friends this evening. I’ll probably cook up a tasty meal later, but first I’m going to order a bowl of chili and extend my cafe time - one bit of my “million buckaroo” dream life I can tap into now.
What’s the point of going through this exercise at all, if I don’t expect a million buckaroos to drop into my bank account in the immediate future, and if my life - as it is right now - is just fine?
That’s coming up later in the Money series.