Enough is Enough
I once asked a friend, “Have you ever had to worry about money?”
“No, not really,” she replied. And I was surprised. I thought everyone
worried about money. But it’s not about money really. It’s about what people believe money will bring. The old money = happiness equation.
This summer I spent four-and-a-half weeks in Canada; my home. By July 10th
, I found myself with 75 cents in my wallet. And with no access to more. I didn’t lose my bankcard. I didn’t forget my stash somewhere. I was just tapped out. Utterly and completely.
The fact that I was on an extremely tight budget (of 75 cents) made me feel strange. It made me feel wrong in a sense, like I was not enough.
My lie plays out in my life at random. I am such an annoyance. __ (Name of person) __ is going to think I am irresponsible. And maybe I am. Yep. I am.
I remember receiving an email several years ago entitled I wish you enough.
The story was originally written by Bob Perks and it tells of a Father and daughter’s final farewell in an airport. As the father bids farewell, he wishes his daughter well, “I wish you enough.” Bob inquires as to it’s meaning and the father recites from memory a wish that has been handed down from generations:
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye." (Author unknown)
With 75 cents in my pocket, I remembered this poem. It made my smile a peculiar smile. I used to believe that independence was the most powerful state that I could achieve. And so, in my twenties, I became very self-reliant. I moved out of the country, and then spent the entire decade abroad. During the summer, I came home and gallivanted from home to home, not spending too much time at any one place. I didn’t want to be an annoyance.
And then I had 75 cents. The lie erupted.
This summer brought some valuable lessons. I learned how to express that I am flat broke. It’s like this, “I can’t join you, I have no money.” You just say it. As it is. No white lies, no cutting corners. No excuses.
And to my sister, it was, “Sorry Sharon, I only have 75 cents in my wallet.”
The key people in your life don’t care how much money you have. They don’t care what clothes you wear (75% of my wardrobe are hand-me-downs), what phone you have, or what car you drive (have never owned a car). And they are there to pick you up when you are down, be it emotionally, physically or financially in my case.
Money doesn’t bring happiness. Connection and interdependence does. Yet, money isn’t the only thing
you can give and service doesn’t mean having to open a wallet or write a check. The most valuable gift I received was not a shell out, but rather, sinceresmiles and genuine understanding. It's a lesson in being, and more-so in receiving. In order to allow others to be of service, we must be open to receive, without self-judgement.
So with my wallet light and my position momentarily fixed, I learned: worst case scenario isn’t as bad as I ever make it. I didn’t lose my friends and family because I was broke; it gave me a chance to lean. And despite my fears, I didn’t topple over.
After all, I had enough. And that was enough.