The other night in yoga class, I started to cry when my teacher played the civil rights freedom fighting song, “Oh, Freedom.” She had us in a really difficult pose (which I will share in a later post), but it wasn’t just the pose that caused the tears. I’ve heard the song before, I’ve sung the song before. But now my desire from freedom has grown so intense that I could feel every slide, every pull in vibrato, and each piece of what that song meant to me.
Wet hot tears. Luckily I was in the back of the class.
I have known for quite a while that I wanted to be “free,” who doesn’t? I just couldn’t put my finger on what that meant to me. Personal freedom is tricky, I think. Especially for people like me–educated, free-thinking westerners–who are privileged so much that sometimes our biggest daily problem is trying to figure out which ketchup to buy at the grocery store. (The next time you’re reaching for some gratitude, I urge you to consider that).
I am well aware, though, it is not like that on all days (umm, we westerners definitely have “real problems” in our lives, let’s not sell ourselves short of well-earned therapy and healing), but many of us also experience a lot of guilt about coming from privilege. I know that my own suffering (most often caused by my guilt) does nothing to alleviate the suffering of others in the world. If anything, it is my responsibility to raise myself up so that I may raise others.
Once I came to terms with this, I decided to start my freedom quest with money. I was waking up feeling so stressed about it that it was causing me physical pain, and I was too through. I was done waiting for my big break to pull me out of the “starving artist” wasteland. In fact, I was tired of believing in the whole starving artist paradigm. Not sexy. Anymore. It was time to take action. My first big lesson in freedom is that anything you are running from, you’re not free from. If you’re unsure where to start in your own personal quest for freedom, start with the things you’re afraid of most. For me it was money! So that’s where I began.
Maybe for some, dropping everything and living off the land makes them feel free. I discovered that mine looks more like spending a last-minute weekend in a bed and breakfast in New Orleans and taking a month-long yoga teacher training in Cabo. It feels like weekly massages and macadamia oil deep conditioners. It smells like really good New York restaurant dinners where I surprise friends and family by picking up the check and strong, sensual doTerra oils sold to me by my fellow goddess friend, Sasha Stone.
My Freedom is also global. It means speaking out about other people’s right to their own freedoms. It means being a leader and world-changer for women–especially women of color. It means telling the woman who was following me around the department store last week that she can redirect her efforts to helping me rather than silently accusing me of thievery. It means introducing a new perspective to people who’ve been misinformed or taught to be afraid of those who are different than themselves.
For me, freedom is having enough money pay my rent, do all the things I mentioned above, take my mom to the French Open without blinking, AND have thousands of dollars every year to spend on my own creative projects. $10,000 minimum to be exact. Because before I’ll be a (theater) slave, I’ll be buried in my grave. And of course, there is freedom that is separate from financial, (i.e. emotional, relational, mind, body…) but we’ll keep this post to the cash.
The scary part about money freedom was sitting down and looking at where I’m starting. As far as I was concerned, I was starting from somewhere behind zero, which was enough to incite a spiral of shame and yes, some tears. I did everything I could to address my finances without sitting down and actually looking at my finances. I really didn’t want to do it, but with the support of a financial coach (I will be doing another post about investing in yourself like this!), I did it. I sat down and added up where I am, what I’ve spent, where I want to be and what it’s going to take, dollar by dollar for me to get there. And wouldn’tyaknow: my freedom doesn’t cost as many bucks as I thought! Now as I sit down regularly to look at my numbers, I get clarity, which gives me the free feeling I’m living for. No delayed gratification.
Here, I want to make a special note for my Artists and dreamers: we think we can’t do this but we can. We have all the tools we need to make our visions real. Do not buy the story that you are destined to be poor until the Weinstein Company offers you a part in ‘Star Trek: Deep Space 60.’ There are as many ways to have your financial freedom as there are choices in ketchup. Put that old story down and pick up your freedom.
The adage is true–freedom does have a cost. A great cost. It costs you your fear most often. It costs some relationships that are not serving the vision you have for your liberated self. It costs time and energy toward your goals.