I recently read a book called Financial Alchemy: Twelve Months of Magic and Manifestation (Volume 1)* by Morgana Rae. Initially, I was a tad skeptical. The author’s rolling around in a cascade of bills on the cover, and the book has a lot of exclamation points. But then…I did the first exercise, and something interesting happened.
The basic premise of the book is as follows: Look at your current relationship to money and ditch negative patterns, create a new relationship with money, and nurture that new relationship like you would one with a super hot lover. The interesting part is that Rae asks you to give your negative view of money (and your positive view, later in the book) what she calls a personhood.
Sketch out a character based on your negative beliefs around money. What is this character wearing, saying, doing? How do they smell? How do you feel around them?
As is my usual go to with these kinds of exercises, I went into meditation, and I asked to meet my Money Monster. I found myself in the apartment my family lived in while I was in high school. The apartment was empty, save for my room where I met my younger self sitting on the bed looking awkward and unhappy.
I sensed that younger me really needed some comfort, and what spontaneously came out of me was that I forgave her for making poor choices. I forgave her for shoplifting. I forgave her for never saving any money. All of these unhealthy habits she had around money, I told her that she had been taught these things as a child, that she wasn’t a bad person who just couldn’t help herself from doing “bad things.” I told her that she was in a lot of pain, and that she was choosing these things as a way of self-soothing. I told her that things really do get better, that she stops stealing, that she stops feeling so empty and miserable.
And then, my Money Monster appeared.
At first, he looked like something out of a cartoon, a bit like Spy vs Spy, only much, much creepier. But the longer I looked, the more he took on a three-dimensional, fleshy presence.
He was wearing a too-tight black suit and a greasy top hat, and his jet-black hair stuck out like rod-straight sticks from under his hat. He had beady, black eyes; a long, hooked nose; and a protruding chin. And his smile. Oh god, his smile. Was that ever creepy.
Just being in the room with him was deeply unsettling. I felt as if I couldn’t turn my back on him for a millisecond, because he wouldn’t hesitate to steal something. And he would do anything to get money, even if it meant hurting people–in fact, if people got hurt, that was just an amusing little bonus.
Eegads! No wonder I didn’t want anything to do with Money. My version of him was a foul, lying lech.
In the meditation, I knew that I had to get rid of this man. I got up in his face and started yelling; all of this anger came flooding out. “I hate you! You disgust me! I never want to see you ever again! From now on, you no longer have any control over me, you foul creature, you!” And then, I threw him out the window.
My younger self and I peered over the ledge and watched him splat unceremoniously on the sidewalk. And then, there he was again, standing behind us in the bedroom! I threw him out again. Yet still he was there, leering and chuckling.
We went out into the hall, and I saw in my parents’ bedroom an entire crowd of these men, packed in there like stinky sardines. In the living room they were lined up on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, sneering.
I took younger me by the hand and said, “There are too many of them in here. We need to leave, and we need to burn this place to the ground.”
And we did. We stood on the sidewalk and watched as the entire building turned into a blackened, smoking heap of rubble. And it felt soooooo good.
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