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Unsurety.

I read the book that Sister Mary Clarence (Whoopi Goldberg) gives to Rita Louise Watson (Lauryn Hill) in Sister Act 2, “Letters to a Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Wilke. Checked it out from the library (woot woot, libraries!) and read it quickly, in less than an hour.

Letters 3 and 8 were my favorite, but indeed. It’s crazy to be able to apply that lesson she gave her in that movie to myself, now, as a writer. Which, coincidentally, was what the book is about anyway.

A good teacher finds a way to make things relevant to people in hopes of teaching a lesson. Mary Clarence changing it from writing to singing still held the same sentiment of the author. But to read the actual words, and learn they were about writing — actually left me a little floored.

So thank you, Whoopi Goldberg for delivering that lesson so well on screen. Thank you Lauryn for seeming to find that lesson amongst the ashes of your mother’s own traumas. Thank you to the screenwriters for imparting that lesson to a younger me. Thank you to the original author for sharing these insights with a younger poet who was wholly unsure of himself — when he shouldn’t have been.

And thank you, myself, for finding the lessons in everything. And keeping going. And still finding passion to learn, grow and further define who you are in the drive to be your best.

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Dear Money

I remember the first time I lost my mind over you. I was 14 and had just started one of my first jobs EVER – working at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry Science Store at Clackamas Town Center back in Portland. I used to take the bus about an hour to get to that job. I don’t even remember HOW I came to get that job, but it was great.

The bus ride? Not so much. Why? Well, first off, it was just a long ride for a 14-year-old. Secondly, I had to be at work VERY early in the morning. Which caused me to have to get up even earlier to take the bus and THAT part, well, that was hell.

But the heaven was when I would cash my check and finally be able to take care of myself. Get the things I wanted. Buy the things I needed because it felt like I wouldn’t get them if I didn’t get them myself. It was nice. Though it was tiring, that bus ride – it was also liberating because I was proving to myself on multiple levels that I truly could take care of myself.

That fateful day that I lost my mind over you, Money was when in my 14-year-old indifference, I lost you. Oh man, the tears. The screams of “why!?” that I shouted to the Heavens! The gnashing of teeth and rending of my garments! I’d lost some money for the first time in my life and the world seemed to crash down around my head, threatening to flatten the rest of my teenaged life forever.

“Mom! Momma!!”

“What, son!? Are you hurt!?”

“I lost my money! I cashed my check and I think I dropped it or something!”

I’m in tears. I’ve always been the responsible one. Hell, I had a JOB at 14. What happened when you lost money!? I had no idea. I expected my Mother to give it back to me or replace it or something. Maybe the bank would give it back to me. I didn’t know. All I knew was that…I didn’t have it in my pocket where I put it. And I was inconsolable.

“Well, did you check your steps?”

“Yeah but I didn’t see anything!”

“It’s gone now.”

“Mom, no, I need it back! It was all my money!”

“Well, son, I bet you that will be the last time you lose some money.”

And she was right. I definitely can count on one hand the number of times I’ve lost money. Probably like, one other time. That’s it. But…that experience is one that sticks out vividly when I think about you, Money.

Other than that, Money is something I’ve never ever had enough of. Personally, professionally, emotionally, physically to take care of everything, etc. I’ve never had enough. Sure, I’ve had enough in that I haven’t been destitute and homeless more than a few times in my life but other than that? Extra money has never been in my orbit. No matter how hard I’ve tried to manifest it.

Not just manifest it on some Buddhist-chanting, vision board writing, positive thinking shit. I’ve worked. HARD. SINCE I was 14. I’ve wanted to be an entrepreneur for as long as I can remember. Hell, I got my first micro-loan around the same time I had gotten that first job I remember so vividly above.

Between not having the financial literacy (even though I also took classes around those things when I was younger), growing up in a fractured family and simply being surrounded with people who ALSO didn’t ever have enough, Money – you’ve always been an elusive bitch. And I’m so tired of chasing you.

I don’t want to lose my mind over the absence of you in my life any longer, Money. I simply want you to be to present or for the need for you to be immolated from my life. You’re tiring yet needed for everything. I hate this capitalistic ass country. MORE SOCIALISM PLEASE, because I’d rather Money be a companion as I live life rather than a requirement for me to live said life.

Money, you’re not inherently a whore. Just hoarded by the Whores. Do I want to become one of those whores? Yes, but not at the expense of my morals. Or my sanity. Or my relationships. Or my dreams. I just want more of you so that I can do the things in life that I want to do and that I have this unshakable feeling that I can do.

I’ve never had any collateral for a loan. No generational wealth that was gifted to me. No credit. Just seat of my pants, learning the lessons about how Money can be a real bitch. One that’s on a short leash in this world, at that. So how do I get to you Money when you seem to systemically be so far out of my reach?

I don’t know. All I know is that I haven’t lost any money since the first time we met, Money. I try to hold on to you as best I can. Save, where I can. Invest my pennies in Acorn. Whatever it is. I’ve even avoided your best friend Credit since I never got a real lesson in how to treat that motherfucker, either. I’m still paying for the way I treated him!

So, if you want to come visit this man whose been working since the age of 14 to be a good steward of the fruits of his hard labor, I’m open Money. I’m sorry for the way we’ve circled each other’s orbit for the past few years. I apologize for the way I treated you at the lunch table and in my private conversations about you and all your trillions of kids circulating in the world. Please, accept my apology and come sit with me.

I’m calmer and more understanding than when I was 14. I don’t bite. I promise. Unless you want me to. I lost you back then, but I want to find you now for my own sanity and well-being.