I Want to be Fucking Rich

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It’s been a long time since I’ve been walking around my house, grinning like a mad fool, contorting my body around in all sorts of happy-like stim-expressions.

With my heart full-near-to-bursting in a way I didn’t think I could feel, I realized today how much I want to be rich.

Kinda… triggering, a bit?

Kinda ick?

Sorta, “ew, you bought the ticket to the commodity fair and now you’re never coming back?”

Amen brother. I hear you.

I really do.

But I want to be fucking rich.

Allow me to explain.

I’m currently travelling. And if you followed my last story, it hasn’t been all sunshine and good times and rainbow ray energy. (But upgrades never are, sorry friends).

However, in my new-temporary-accommodation, I met the owner of the house where I’m staying. He’s a Tico — A native Costa Rican, and speaks zero english.

Zero.

He lives with his (very adorable) wife and they run this air BnB together.

As it would have it, even though I don’t *love* having my private time interrupted (downtime is so stupidly valuable to neurospicies), in the past three days, I’ve found myself in conversation with him a lot.

Now, I’m not fluent in Spanish. Not even close. But I do understand most of what’s being said, and I can usually cobble together some sort of genuine expression, even if it involves more hand gestures than actual sentences.

Over the past three days, over coffee, in the garden, and in the middle of the road with the occasional child-on-a-bicycle-passerby, my new friend and I have talked about women’s relationship to La Madre (the great mother), the energy of the moon, and surprisingly, how to navigate the tourism industry with grace. (He believes that creating a real relationship with the people who come to visit is the way forward — and happily works with the ‘loco’ tourists who come to him for fishing endeavours and other adventures).

He loves working with people — something that I never realized I love, too — because working with others is the truest way we can connect to humanity as a whole. (Which, never occurred to me, feels true as well).

And, over the past three days, I’ve come to learn that every plant on their property has a purpose. What I thought were beautiful flowers were actually a tiny version of nasturtiums, the edible flowers we all love to see in salads. The trees were lime trees; bay leaf trees. The plants and shrubs were types of oregano, holy basil, and other medicinal herbs.

Because this trip has been a “travel first figure it out later,” kind of trip, I’ve been eating a lot of rice and beans here.

Well, mostly rice and beans.

Okay so I’ve only been eating rice and beans. And some eggs! And some fruit!

And while I was standing in the garden with my newfound friend, with fresh shrimp from his fishing stock sitting on my counter, a freezer full of bananas he’d brought over the day before and a shirt full of limes he picked from the tree — standing with my hands stuffed full of different herbs as we talked about their medicinal properties, it hit me full in the face that this is, in a nutshell, is wealth.

It’s not about commodity. Or consumption. Or the ticket price of anything. It’s about an abundance of everything.

An abundance of fresh food — never having to worry about how much it’s been sprayed or whether it contains glyphosates. An abundance of time — where my friend can come over, unhurried, with a cup of coffee and sit with me to talk for an hour or more at any point in the day. An abundance of perspective — where he believes the solution to the influxing “gringo” wave is to work together with everyone — without trying to keep anyone out; keep anyone away.

Sure.

I’ve dreamed about having a big garden with fresh food and fresh eggs and a place where I can walk peacefully and enjoy the lavender I’ve planted. I’ve dreamed about homesteading; realizing that I might have too much of a wanderer’s soul to allow that to realistically work out (you gotta be at home to tend to your chickens, you know).

But this — Being so surrounded by the aliveness of mother earth — Mama Gaia providing for you by being in Right relationship with the land and its people (and not just loving plants and hating humans, sorry former Self), that is goddamn richness and wealth.

And I want every part of it.

Immerse me in the lushness of knowing where my food’s come from and the perspective that the only way forward is together. Drown me in the abundance of having fresh leaves for tea and salves and ripe produce to pick from a neighbouring tree. Drench me in the feeling that there is enough. That there is truly enough. That the Mother provides.
This is the wealth that I want.

And is it starry-eyed, tropical travels dreaming? Maybe.

But I think it’s more about realizing what type of wealth you lust after. What makes you feel ignited about alive. What makes you feel… hot, for life.

I won’t blink a single, judgemental eyelash if you tell me your idea of wealth is a super yacht with seven outfit options and a professional hairstylist on every given day.

But I learned this week what wealth looks like to me.

Time.

Connection to the earth.

Conversations with the land. With my food. With a sense of aliveness that comes from feeling like you truly are in divine alignment with the mother that supports you.

And I want to be filthy rich in it.

So when I talk about abundance codes, I know what I’m lusting after. I know what I’m manifesting. I know what I’m putting into the field in order to realize the dreams that I want.

Do you?