As Long as Good People Think Wealth is Evil, the World Will Keep Being Shit
Poor=good is a disempowering equation
Wealth.
I want you to sit with the word for a moment. How does it feel? Contaminated? Does your stomach clench?
Say it out loud. Wealth. Does it feel like you’re spitting out a three-day-old piece of ham you forgot to refrigerate? Do your lips twist with disgust as it escapes?
On a scale of 0 to 10, where 10 is ‘I’m really comfortable with this word, it feels like sunshine and honey’, and 0 is ‘please do not feed me dogshit!’, where does ‘wealth’ sit? Make a note of that number.
Now rate your financial well-being.
On a scale of 0 to 10, where 0 is ‘I’m homeless or afraid I’m about to be’, and 10 is ‘there is always enough money in my life’, what’s your number? Again, make a note of it.
How close are these numbers? I’m betting they’re pretty close. And that’s not a coincidence. If you think wealth is evil, and you are not, you are probably struggling financially.
But what if you could change this and do some good in the world?
My stepfather, may the god of nudist GPs rest his soul, was a wealthy man. He was also a mean man. That was pretty much how he got wealthy. Sure, he made some shrewd investments, but he wouldn’t have had anything to invest had he not been mean. Don’t get me wrong, in his latter years, he showered my stepsisters with significant cash gifts because he was trying to minimise his inheritance tax. And hands up, he gave me a grand when I got married just after my mother died (her death having softened him up a bit) and in the same era, lent me £10K (though he made absolutely sure it got repaid). But over the ten years I lived with him, aged 8 to 18, when my brain was at its most malleable, and my ideas about money were forming, this future multi-millionnaire was as mean as a single-serving sachet of ketchup.
A fitting metaphor, since food was his central tool of meanness. To protect his wealth, he didn’t combine finances with my mother (a part-time special needs teacher) during their 30-year marriage. When, in the wake of my mother’s death, my sister and I went to clear some of her things, there was a cheque from her sitting on his desk, made out to him, paying for her half of the holiday she died on.
Mum raised the four of us on a very strict budget under the regime I came to call Food Apartheid: lashings of expensive food for him, limited amounts of cheap food for us. Every day for ten years, I got to witness how Wealth eats — expensive cuts of meat and every single delicacy he desired — vs non-wealth (us kids): bread and jam. Not all the jams, either. Full details, and a related poem here:
A lot of psychological damage was done to me in those ten years, and I knew it, too. So you can be sure that by the time I was an adult, I was never going to be anything like my stepfather. And that included being wealthy. Because, to my mind, wealth went hand in hand with being mean.
Then I married a fellow computer programmer who, when I met him, was in debt (whereas I managed my finances very responsibly). Only once we were married did I discover he was completely obsessed with money, above everything else (including the happiness of his wife and children; I became the indentured servant who helped make him rich). So I found myself living with someone who was wealthy and, once the mask was off, psychopathically cruel. When he offered me half a million pounds to stay with him, I said, ‘I’d rather be happy and poor.’ Full story here:
By this time, my mid-thirties, wealth was fully associated with misery. Wealthy people were evil bastards who got rich through selfishness, greed and cruelty. Clearly, I would, on some level, do anything not be one of them.
Hence, a life in the arts.
BUT. Despite the pervasive trope of ‘the starving artist,’ and a reality that has never been less conducive to making a living through creativity, not all artists and writers from humble beginnings remain poverty-stricken. And against the apparent odds, I have successfully navigated the writing life (with a lot of creative writing teaching work and a fair number of grants) to raise four children as the sole breadwinner of my family. Despite the ‘poor artist’ trope, and a relentlessly red-lining bank account, I live in an amazing house in an expensive part of England. Whenever I thought the whole business was about to collapse, money arrived. The universe has fully supported me in doing what I love, even though it looked impossible. Somehow, I have made this writer’s life work for 28 years.
The key to making it work has been manifestation. Though I have a science background, I know enough about quantum weirdness to appreciate the truth of ‘more things in heaven and earth… than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ I’m also enough of a scientist to conduct experiments rather than dismiss things outright, and have repeatedly discovered that this shit works, so long as you complete the correct energetic steps and don’t just chant bullshit affirmations in the mirror. See also:
I have repeatedly shown myself that we can, without question, change our financial outlook with our thoughts. Or more accurately, with the feelings we attach to those thoughts. A positive, joyful attitude to money and an expectation of receiving it will bring it bounding towards us like a big golden Labrador puppy. I just wish I hadn’t, after each big money puppy bounced into my life, locked the metaphorical dog flap to prevent myself from becoming that despicable thing, ‘wealthy.’
Since being made redundant from my position as Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing 18 months ago, my cash flow has been sufficiently perilous to severely disrupt my sleep most nights. Several projects I hoped would correct my slide into debt have only partially materialised.
Throughout this time, I have done some course correction, vibrationally; that is, I have, many mornings, used EFT tapping to diminish my fears about losing my beloved house, and remain buoyant about the prospect of more money coming in. I have massively improved my ‘worthy-deservingness’ quotient (which keeps a lot of people in penury, in my experience) and my belief that money can come from anywhere, not just through hard work. And sometimes, proving that point, a long-time supporter sends me hundred-dollar bills through the post. But I am balancing on a financial knife-edge.
I figure this is all for my growth. I am now, in gaming terms, at the ‘final boss level’ challenge.
So a month ago, I decided every morning is a ‘tapping on finances’ morning. Time to finally slay this dragon that has haunted me ever since I left the abusive first husband, who successfully transformed me from high-earning programmer to penniless artist. Time to put a stop to the pattern where I am constantly riding the peaks and troughs of plenty and debt. Time to shift from specific ‘asks’ at times of need to a life of financial freedom. Whatever it takes, I decided. Full commitment. Remove every block.
And the major block I’ve discovered is contained in my feeling about the word ‘wealth’.
Words have huge power. Why do you think so many spiritual people ask for ‘abundance’ rather than wealth? Even using the word ‘money’ feels like an icky (money-grubbing) thing to do. Ah, abundance! We speak about ‘abundance’ and envisage wheat in a field; talk about money flowing in and out as naturally as the air we breathe. ‘Abundance’ is comfortable because it’s natural and morally neutral. I’ve been trying that shit for years. And little wonder that it was only partially successful; that though I’ve done amazingly well for a creative person, never well enough to live for any length of time without anxiety. It’s a rollercoaster ride around the zero line, dizzingly above, then terrifyingly below. If I can’t get comfortable with being ‘wealthy’, I will never stabilise this ride.
It’s difficult for good people to want to join the wealthy.
I get it. Look at the Epstein files. Wealthy evil people, right? Look what they did with their money. Rape children. Destroy lives. Kill some of those kids, probably. But the men who raped Gisele Pelicot weren’t wealthy. Epstein and Pelicot: this is just rape culture. Patriarchy in action. It has nothing to do with wealth. Andrew Tate is wealthy, sure, but we can be sure an awful lot of his followers are spewing hateful rhetoric from their mother’s basement. Misogyny isn’t correlated with credit score.
Here is my contention:
If we want a better world, we must stop thinking wealthy means evil.
Unless you’re in the position and of the inclination to live self-sufficiently, off-grid, with very little, money is an essential tool of personal freedom. It’s also, undoubtedly, a form of power. And we have all been disempowered enough.
If you are a good-hearted person, this is what you can do with wealth:
Free yourself up to spend your time doing what you love and are good at. If you’ve spent a good portion of your life getting really good at something that brings you joy and brings joy to others (writing, music, art, looking after animals or the planet), wealth means you can stop slogging to pay the bills, and just focus on that beneficial thing
Support the arts and artists: help to proliferate fundamentally human, soul-nourishing, inspirational arts, to the great benefit of everyone
Support good causes: domestic violence charities, homeless shelters, educational charities, refugee and migrant support
Set up new charities (my idea: one that offers free EFT to the homeless, to abuse survivors, and anyone else without the money to heal their wounds)
Fund political candidates who are principled and not prone to raping people. Yep, I mean women. For an inspiring, principled woman, see, for example, this terrific speech by freshly elected plumber/plasterer Hannah Spencer.
This is the vision I tap towards every morning now. Not 'abundance.' Wealth. The real thing, used well.
And despite how difficult it can be (as mentioned above) for good people to get comfortable enough with wealth that they will allow themselves to be wealthy, here is something that’s true:
It’s easier to make good people rich than make rich people good.
So if you are not wealthy, but you are a decent human being, and you would love to
be free of financial anxiety
donate to good causes
indulge your love of creativity or community or animals or the planet
maybe it’s time to change your relationship with the word “wealth.”
Because the world doesn't need more wealthy arseholes. It needs more of us.
And here, with magnificent irony, you've hit the paywall. The practical tools for shifting your relationship with wealth live below it. I appreciate that some of you are reading this thinking 'I would go paid but I can't afford it' — which is, you'll notice, exactly the problem we're solving. My paid subscribers are, in the most literal sense, funding this work while I write my memoir. If you'd like to join them — and pick up some tools for inviting more money into your life in the process — well. The universe would consider that elegant.