I've Been Thinking About Money All Wrong
Pling! That was the sound a dime made when hitting the bottom of an old tin can labeled “Family.” Growing up, my parents gave me a weekly allowance of $1.00. This wasn’t free money I could just blow on strippers and booze, I had to allocate it into a series of tin cans. A dime went to “Family” to save for holiday gifts, another dime went into a can marked “God” as my 10% tithe, and a quarter went into “Savings.” The rest I could spend how I saw fit. Sadly, $0.55 doesn’t get you very far, even in 1987.
I’d be at the grocery store with my mom, see a pack of gum, pick it up and ask, “can we get this?” My mom would look down and ask if that’s what I wanted to spend my money on. I’d contemplate the choice for a minute, then usually put it back. This practice taught me some wonderful principles, such as being very intentional about where your money goes. I learned to consider purchases rather than buying on impulse. I learned the value of saving, charity, and generosity. I also learned that money is scarce and needed to be treated carefully.
I didn’t grow up wealthy, and I didn’t grow up poor. We lived in a modest house in a good neighborhood, and my dad drove a 5-year-old Porsche 944, which made it look like we had more money than we did. I was never in want, and I was never spoiled materially.
My world didn’t shift much until my first summer in law school. I managed to land a coveted law firm “summer associate” position in my hometown of Atlanta, GA, which paid me $2,000... A WEEK! For a 22-year-old kid who was used to making $15/hour, this was unimaginable wealth. I remember using that money to pay for my first (terrible) studio-recorded album, as well as some fun guitar-related toys. Money became an object to me that I received in exchange for grueling hours of work I didn’t enjoy.
I practiced law for seven years in many iterations (big law firm, my own firm, and in-house counsel). I’m so grateful for those years because of everything I learned and some amazing people I met. But the work itself never fulfilled me. Music was still the dream. Though when I finally did leave the law, I started a music technology company instead of going on tour. I was sold by the entrepreneurial promise of starting a company and then selling it five years later for millions of dollars. While that never happened, our investors were the wealthiest people I’d ever met. I saw amounts of money I’d never seen before. But for me, money was still an elusive object that felt hard to capture. Like a lightning bug just before dark.
After my start up company, I turned my focus to music, which required a lot of money. I spent most of what I had on PR, digital marketing, and radio promotion. I started working for a mentor of mine facilitating sales training classes to fund my endeavor. I built a life that allowed me both the flexibility and the resources to pursue my art. I’m really proud of that life. It’s the life I’m still living today. However, I’m trading time for dollars, and a shortage in time results in a shortage of dollars. Scarcity again.
Last week, my girlfriend and I started a renovation project on our master bathroom. As excited as we are about our dream shower, it was nerve wracking signing up for a significant expense in these uncertain times. After all, money in my mind was still scarce and just out of reach.
The first day of demolition, our cheery, Latino contractor comes up and thanks us sincerely for giving him and his workers this job during these difficult, uncertain times. Then he went and started work.
That simple act of gratitude rocked me.
I sat down. Like a golf ball to the neck (speaking from experience on that one), it hit me—I’d been looking at money all wrong. Maybe money isn’t an object at all. Maybe it’s an energy. An energy that runs through those who don’t block its flow. I had enough money to afford this renovation, and he needed the money to live. It flowed from me to him in a beautiful exchange.
Maybe money isn’t a mountain that’s too steep to climb. Maybe it’s actually a river waiting to flow through us. When water gets blocked, it shifts its direction and flows elsewhere. Maybe money works the same way. Maybe I’ve been unwittingly blocking it.
Nothing magical has happened since this realization last week, but I feel different. From this point forward, I’m looking at money with a fresh set of eyes. I want to be a channel for money that allows it to flow through me more and more. An ever-expanding delta.
The creative and entrepreneurial projects I’m working on are built with service at their core, and I love doing them. As I spend more money, I want to channel it toward others who are building things they love. A beautiful cycle that grows as the rain continues to fill the river.
It’s too early to say, but I feel like I’m onto something. Like one of those 3D pictures you have to squint at to really see what’s going on.
Maybe, just maybe, this mindset shift will unblock my river.
