Exchange
Exchange
“The concert was so good,” Thalia tapped her toes, “I almost peed my pants!”
Urania smirked. “You stole the ‘peed my pants’ line?” She raised her eyebrows. “Julia Roberts in that stunning red dress? Gushing as she left the opera Pirates of Penzance on Richard Gere’s arm?”
“Vivian and Edward — their names in the film were Vivian and Edward. Did the orchestra play anything from Pretty Woman last night?” Calliope entered the kitchen with dirt under her nails and smudged on her cheek.
Urania rested her forehead on the fingertips of her left hand. “They did not… Star Wars, Bohemian Rhapsody, Pirates of the Caribbean, Mamma Mia, but no songs from Pretty Woman. Let’s move on shall we?”
Thalia was eager to get outside. “Let’s be done! Typist can finish up without us.”
As three muses disappeared into the shade of newly leafed trees, Urania’s voice remained in Typist’s head — an echo of Typist’s high school literature teacher. “Potatoes are done. People — and muses — are finished.”
Words from Typist:
In the last twelve hours I’ve had an opportunity to work with money-as-energy.
You give, you receive — energy out, energy in.
Even though there was no admission fee for last night’s performance, I found myself grateful for baskets at the exit where audience members could leave a donation to support the Grace Notes Orchestra. The volunteer group — practicing, performing, pouring themselves into work they love — surely deserved a return on their effort.
And then… this morning I had an opportunity to thank our sole-proprietor, lawn-beautification guy. I learned he has two teenagers, both involved in sports. Many nights this time of year he doesn’t sit down for dinner until 10:00 pm.
Jason clearly has a passion for what he does… he told me about drought, moths, and grubs as turf troublemakers. We also talked about the stress and challenges of fuel prices, supply-chains, and business ownership. He told me that he expected to lose customers this year because he had to raise his prices. And yet, he has so much work that he’s here on a Sunday morning.
I can understand why…
the energy he puts out invites energy to flow in.
Thinking of money as an energy exchange helps me to view dollars and cents differently.
How about you?
My story around money is... oblivious to me. It was suggested to me that we each have a story about money many months ago, and yet nothing. My degree in economics would suggest it's about utility, rational actors, and min/maxing but that's hooey. I guess it'll just have to remain in the "ruminating" category.
My father’s parents operated a general store and their town Post Office. During the not so Great Depression, everyone needed food, dry goods, and other life essentials to survive. Not all had money. Such folks bartered whenever possible. Milk from cows. Eggs from their chickens. Produce from their gardens. Sometimes an oversupply of such items offered in barter rendered their value slight, if at all. Dire business for those lacking dollars. Heart breaking for dad’s parents. A sad convolution in the energy exchange. I wonder about the people who lacked currency? Their fates?
So I offer thanks for today’s post and pictures from last night’s performance. My apologies for a “downer” take on the money/energy part of the post.