Money Is Power

Honest. Admit it. Whether we like it or not, money is power.

We may be strongly resistant to the thought that our sense of self-worth could be tied to how much money we have, but having very little or no money at all does significantly affect our level of self-confidence. For so-called conscious “spiritual workers”, especially, it is particularly difficult and embarrassing to admit this to oneself, since we loathe the thought that our value and confidence level could be affected by a mere “material” thing, such as money.

However, rather than to go on continually denying (as many Light Workers do) that our feelings are not a bit affected by our financial circumstances, it serves us to understand our confused or ambivalent relationship to money, so that we may find peace with it.

The first step is to see money for what it really is.

money is power

Money is energy. Energy is power. Money is power.

Energy, money, power – they all go through cycles of surges and declines. And just like the ebb and flow of the ocean tides, our emotions are naturally affected by the same energetic movements – the ebb and flow of money in our experience.

So there is really nothing to be embarrassed about when our moods and self-confidence is dampened by the ebb in our finances. It is but natural that we don’t feel so confident and energized when money energy is on the low, as it is natural to feel perky and confident when money energy is on the flow.

However, although we can’t help but feel dispirited when we are face to face with financial ebb, we can always find a way to use the experience to our advantage.

In my next blog post, I’d like to share some of the interesting things I learned when I didn’t have money.

When I Was Young, I Wanted To Be…

In my basic Japanese language class, the teacher required the class to make a very simple composition using the Nihongo that we have learned so far. We were asked to read our work in front of the class.

The topic was, “When I was young, I wanted to be . . .”.

Translated into English, my composition went like this:

When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be a teacher.

When I was in secondary school, I wanted to become an artist. I drew pictures. I made decorative crafts. And I wrote novellas.

But when I was in college, I wanted to join a revolution and be like Che Guevara.

Now, I just want to be a Buddha.

After reading my sentences, I peeked at my teacher who was standing by the side of the room. I waited for her comments and corrections. For a moment, she did not say a word. Then she smiled a very sweet smile.

I guess she liked my composition . . ..

As I went back to my seat, two South Asian classmates, stared at me. The one from India, his eyes, dark, deeply expressive, appeared very perplexed. The one from Nepal, his eyes, light brown, intense, also appeared very perplexed.

I was confused.

They both asked, “Did you say you wanted to be a Buddha? Or was it buta?

I said, I want to be a Buddha.

They then corrected me by saying that I should stress the double ‘d’ in Buddha. Otherwise, it sounded like I said ‘buta’ – which means ‘pig’ in Japanese.

The class was in Japanese language, but I had a simultaneous lesson in learning how to correctly pronounce a South Asian word!

allu

The Only One Thing That Motivates People To Act

rumi on love

 

I had been thinking: what do people look for when they do what they do, whatever that thing they do?

I initially came up with three obvious basic human motivations:

1. Love – The need to love and be loved
2. Survival – ‘To exist’: The survival of the body and/or a person’s self-image or Ego.
3. Search for meaning or a higher purpose – The desire to know the purpose of existence. The desire to seek, reach out, or unite with a greater power.
Some people look for fame because they want to be admired. The admiration they seek is a form of love.

Some people do things and fancy being appreciated for what they do. The appreciation they seek is a form of love.

People act on their passion, joy, bliss. This is simply love.

People do things to provide for their loved ones. This is love.

The search for meaning or a higher purpose is to fill the void – a non-physical need. This search is equally motivated by love – self-love.

People kill other people; nations go to war for various reasons.

At first glance, we may say that the reason for this is simply hate. But why would one hate another if not for fear or a perceived threat from that other?

The reason could be fear, religion, self-defense, revenge, or to control more resources. These are all premised on self-preservation or the survival of body and self-image/ego.

Self-preservation of body and self-image is also a form of love – self-love – albeit a distorted sense of self-love, if you will.

It does appear that the common motivation for any action, whether it be considered an appropriate or inappropriate action, is love.

Therefore, “all we need is love”.

So don’t hesitate to wish love for friends and enemies alike, for they may be fighting an inner battle we know nothing about.

 

Unconditional Love

waterbabe

I love, honor, accept, respect and approve of you as you are.

As you seek to find your own special way to relate to the world the way you feel that is right for you.

It is important that you are the person you choose and desire to be, and not someone that I or others think you should be.

I realize that I cannot know what is best for you, though perhaps sometimes I think I do.

I have not been where you have been, viewing life from the angle that you have.

I do not know what you have chosen to learn, who you have chosen to learn it with, or in what time period.

I have not walked life looking through your eyes.

So how can I know what you need?

I allow you to be in the world without a thought or a word of judgement from me about the deeds you undertake.

I see no error in the things you say and do.

I see that there are many ways to perceive and experience the different facets of our world.

I allow, without reservation, your right to make the choices you make in each moment.

I make no judgment of this, for if I were to deny your right to evolution, then I would deny that right to myself and all others.

If you would choose a way I cannot walk, whilst I may not choose to add my power and my energy to it, I will never deny you the gift of Unconditional Love that the Creator bestowed within me for all creation.

As I love you, so I shall be loved.

As I sow, so shall I reap.

I honor and respect the universal right of free will: that you walk your own path, following your love, light and truth, creating steps or sitting awhile if it is what is right for you.

I make no judgement of these steps, whether they are large or small, or light or heavy, or that they lead up or down, for this is just my viewpoint.

While I may perceive that I see you do nothing and judge it to be unworthy, I honor and respect that it may be that you bring great healing as you stand blessed by the light of the Creator.

I accept and honor that I cannot always see the higher picture of Divine Order, and that it is the inalienable right of all beings to choose their own evolutionary style.

And with Unconditional Love, I acknowledge your right to determine your future.

In humility, I bow to the realization that the way I see is the best for me, but that does not have to mean that it is also the best or the right one for you.

I know that you are led as I am, following the Inner Excitement of your own path.

I know that many races, religions, customs, nationalities and beliefs within our world bring us great riches, and allow us the benefit of diverse teachings.

I know we each learn in our own unique way in order to bring that love and wisdom back to the Whole.

I know that if there were only one way to something, there would need to be only one person.

I love you, unconditionally, whether or not you behave in a way I think you should, or believe in those things I believe in.

I  Thank you, unconditionally, for being YOU, and for the many blessings your Being brings to me, and to the world.

– A rampage of unconditional love by Abraham Hicks

 

 

 

 

 

My Friends and I, We Were To Overthrow the Government

I was sixteen going on seventeen, I just joined a movement that aims to overthrow the Government. . . .

~ ~ ~

The indigenous Igorot tribes are one of, if not, the hardiest people living in the islands ‘still named after King Philip II of Spain’ (as one of my friends insists to call it). The Igorot’s harsh and tough environment undoubtedly shaped their hardy constitution. There was rarely anyone who did not work very hard. For how could they not? In order to have sustenance, the Igorots have to till the rugged, arid mountains they fondly call their home.

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Sunrise  over Maligcong rice terraces

Apart from his preserved rich but dynamic pre-colonial culture, the rugged, chilly mountains is all the Igorot got. Even so, within the given constraints of his exacting environment, he learned to adapt and make the best use of his lot. The Igorot forebear, with just his bare hands and a few rudimentary tools, painstakingly carved the steep mountains into a masterful engineering monument of rice and vegetable terraces. With foresight, he knew that the rice terraces, the forests, the clear streams and rivers, are enough to nourish and sustain many more generations of his descendants – for lifetimes after lifetimes. And indeed, in spite of his landlocked and austere location, a contrast to the sunny, wide, and fertile plains of the lowlands, the formidable, cloud-hidden mountains never failed to yield everything necessary for his survival. The Igorot thus survived, and thrived.

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Banaue rice terraces

For many hundreds of years, the various Igorot tribes did not need or expect much from the Government. After all, they have always provided for themselves. They built functional irrigation systems and colossal rice terraces without a centralized authority ordering or commanding them. They built without the use of forced labor or slavery. Each tribe was self-subsistent, and aware, that it existed long before there was a Government. . . .

~ ~ ~

I was sixteen, newly arrived in the city – “to do college”. I was very lucky. A year before that, Mother told me that I could not do college – because we have no money. Father had just died, where would she get the money to send me to college?

But I was lucky. Unexpectedly lucky. . . I got a scholarship, from the Government!

When I arrived to the city, I knew nothing of the city and the people in the city. So I obeyed everything my elders told me to do – to be a good girl, basically. They put me in a convent dormitory for girls. There, they said, the convent nuns would make sure that I prayed, and followed the rules.

In the dormitory, a roommate looked down on me, for being a mountain girl, an Igorot, and for being poor.

But in campus, I met new good friends. Exuberant, free-spirited, intelligent friends. They told me that we – The People – whether we hail from the lowlands or the highlands, are poor, because of the Government. That no matter how hard we work, even if we work to our deaths, we will remain poor and wretched because of the Government, and its accomplices.

“But we are scholars of the Government!” I told my new friends, aghast at their plans to overthrow the Government. My friends then told me to listen, very carefully, as they tell me the ‘truth’. That the truth is, it is our right to be given education by the Government. To where do The People’s taxes go, but to be rightfully spent for The People’s free access to education, as well as for the provision of other basic needs for all the citizens of the State?

My friends then showed me facts, statistics, the well researched and well analyzed data regarding the Government’s spendings and transactions. They told me about the Government’s unjust deals and crooked laws and agreements with other nations’ governments, business entities, and the big banks. One of these, which directly disadvantaged my people, was the standing Mining Act that gave mining companies the freedom to devastate tribal lands, allowing 100% foreign control and ownership of these lands, and these companies having the right to displace and resettle people – all this without having to consult the indigenous inhabitants of the land.

My friends’ arguments about overthrowing the Government sounded all too logical. They believed that we – The People – have put the Government in its place. So when it fails in its responsibility and breaks its ‘Social Contract’ with The People, we have all the right to bring down the Government.

I thought of my father. I thought of my mother. I thought of all the people who would be unceremoniously displaced to clear the way for Government-Business projects that would only essentially benefit the few. I thought of the mountains and rice terraces crumbling once the mountains are excavated. I thought of the fresh streams and rivers, polluted. I thought of the dense forests and their animal inhabitants, wiped out.

I could then, clearly, and reasonably see why the Government must, indeed, be overthrown.

My friends claimed that our problem is structural: that the problem of our country, and of the world at large, is embedded in the prevailing economic and political structure. And that our goal is to crush this oppressive and unjust structure and replace it with an alternative.

I was sixteen, going on seventeen; together with others who were more or less of the same age as me, we were fearless, we were dangerous, we were adventurous, we were idealistic – we were ready to face Death – to offer our young lives, for what we believed was a just and noble cause.

Work Hard Then Die

Black cat

Once, in a family gathering, and so suddenly, a relative asked me, “What are your plans?”

I decided to ignore her and to not answer her question. I thought I didn’t need to explain my life to her and even if I tried, she won’t get it anyway. It’s just that we are not in the same frequency level and so our perception of reality, and of life, is starkly different.

I knew she wanted to ask if I am going to get a job, and if I have plans to marry. Does the latter sound familiar to many singles out there? 🙂

I suspect she thinks of me as a lazy person, or one who is without direction, or plans and goals in life.

I do not do ‘work’. . . . I only do what I want/love to do, and what I want/love to do, I do not define as ‘work’. There are things I love to do that are compensated with money, and there are things I love to do that are not compensated with money, but I do them anyway just because I love to do them. I have decided to follow this personal life ethic because I want to, and also because I believe that the foundation of true success is doing what you love to do. It may be a slow process, but at least it is a sure and enjoyable process.

And because of this life choice, I consider myself to be living with ease and being in the flow. Some of my friends think of me as simply lucky while family members are intrigued no end.

Before my current choice of lifestyle, however, I had been, in fact, a hard worker, a perfectionist, and competitive in my past endeavors. I only stopped being the previous version of myself because of a dark and heavy shadow that kept tugging at me. This dark and heavy shadow would not leave me – not until I confronted it during the time of my Saturn Return (29 years old). Such darkness and heaviness first descended upon me after my father’s death – when I awakened to the cruelty and absurdity of what we call ‘life’ is.

My parents worked very hard. I blamed hard work to be the cause of their deaths. My father worked very hard in another town while my mother worked in the fields from dawn to dusk. They worked really hard – just like their parents and grandparents and great grandparents down the generation.

Now, I’m not complaining that my parents were hard workers. They lived their lives the best way they know how, given the circumstances of their time. And I am very grateful for everything that they imparted to me – even if it is the lesson to not follow their steps as it is not always the best way to live.

After my father’s death, I still vividly remember when I asked my mother – why?

Ma, why was I born?”

What do you mean?” She looked at me in a manner that as if my question did not deserve to be asked.

I don’t know . . . but what am I born for? What are we people born for,” I asked, somberly.

Do you not like to have been born?”

I almost screamed to her, the painful question I had been asking myself over, and over again:

Look Ma, we were born, we grow up, we go to school, we argue and get insulted in school, we marry, we raise children, we work very hard, we get sick, we suffer, and then – we die – just like Father. What is it all for?”

I asked her with utmost sincerity, practically begging her to tell me the answer to the mystery of life.

Mother could not answer my question. She did not know the answer either.

So I went on with my life carrying that burden of a question on my shoulders – a heavy, sinister, shadowy entity following my every walk on Earth – reminding me if this is all there is to life.

I was sorry for screaming at my widowed mother, but I just really needed to know, ‘why?’