I do some of my best writing in bed at night when my mind is tormented by fears and doubts. With the light off, I try to calm my agitated mind for sleep, but I eventually have to get up and start writing.

I detest my new job. It’s not the waitressing that bothers me, but the toxic environment. Too many pissed off employees. The changing of the guard has everyone on edge, and the new wait staff takes the hit. People yell at me when I do something wrong, “You don’t talk to the cook! You talk to me!” “If you’re not waiting tables, you need to do side work!” Or I am chided, “Remember, I already told you…”

Sunday after brunch I asked what I could do to help. The flitting waitress gives me vague instructions, something about “taking down” a table. (Is the table going to the basement?) I ask what “taking down” means. The manager asks, “Have you ever waitressed before?” I had just spent the past four hours within her view busting my ass bussing tables and making sure every customer’s coffee cup and water glasses were full, and she questions if I ever waitressed before because I can’t intuit was “taking down” means. Maybe they are both unfamiliar with the word “collapse.”

Tonight, for some reason, I travel backward in time to my childhood summers camping in Big Sur, California. Life was so simple then, because the needs of childhood were the needs of the moment. Not the rent, or the utility bill, or whether or not I could take another day at a crappy job.

Big Sur was big magic to a six-year-old. Huge coastal redwoods littered the ground with a thick, fragrant carpet of needles. Their long-decayed logs and trunks became the foundation to many small hills that a three-foot tall person could run up and run down. And what delight to find a hollowed out trunk, blackened and charred clean from fire, that became a little fortress under which I and a newfound friend could sit and play in the protection of these giants, inhaling the cool, clean smell of forest damp and rot.

Back then little people were instant playmates willing to pretend any scenario. No judgment. No weighing the interest of the other party, wondering if they’d accept a social invitation or beg off with some excuse, preferring instead the simplicity of a night in front of the TV with beer and refined carbohydrates to numb life’s disappointments. Just “What’s your name? Will you play with me?”

I remember fondly the sounds and smells of childhood camping. The smell of bacon that would wake me. The sizzle of pancake batter hitting the pan. The clear, strong song of the tent zipper, quiet tamp of foot on redwood needles, clinking of the metal latch being dragged across the padlock ring of the build-in pantry cupboard, raucous bluejays stealing food off the table, the hiss of propane heating coffee and hot water for dishwashing. And most affectionately, the echo of voices heard throughout the campground that seemed to carry forever, but the words didn’t survive the distance. Just the tenor and the echo. (A few years later everything soured and the sounds were mom drunk, dad complaining, and my brothers arguing.)

At night we would make our way with flashlight to the roaring bonfire and the ranger talk. Seated on low benches in the tiny amphitheater, the uniformed rangers would share their lore of the forest and its denizens. And we children would be shown how to pass our hands through the fire without burning them. It was magic.

My father told us kids one year that whoever caught the largest fish would get a fishing pole for a present. Using a stick, line and hook, I caught the largest. My oldest brother, inexperienced with gutting, reduced my catch to garbage. And I never got a fishing pole. It was one of many betrayals by my father.

The last betrayal was after I proudly told him during his last visit that I had quit smoking after 30 years of nagging. As he hugged me goodbye I yearned to hear “I’m proud of you.” Instead, I got “Try not to gain any more weight.” That was the last notch of the belt of respect that I had long ago outgrown. When I left Oregon I didn’t leave a forwarding address or tell my family I was going.

Tonight, in bed, unable to sleep as my mind recounts the contemptible behavior of my coworkers, I wonder if I should throw myself naked to the universe and say, “Show me what it is to be a child again, a child of wonder and trust. Show me your magic.” Dare I put my faith to the test?

I have read that a wise and spiritual man named Jesus once said, “All things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they will be granted you.”

The teachers of New Thought teach me that I order my universe with my thoughts, and that the universe is pleased to pour itself into a mold of my making. I believe. Help thou mine unbelief.

As I toss with frustration and doubt and fear I hear the faint honking of Canadian geese, a sound that thrills my soul. It is so precious I push my cat Pinegar aside, jump out of bed and throw open the window that I might stick my head out and catch however much of their song as is possible.

The honking sounds like they’re moving off. But the sound continues and begins to get louder and then very, very loud. And there they are, flying directly over my apartment at 12:52 a.m. I pull into myself the cool beauty of nature to quell the fire raging inside, a fire of anger because people can’t be kind and friendly to others but use what little power they have to be petty and make others as miserable as they are.

Since arriving in Pennsylvania I’ve been staying at my friend Tom’s house. His house is absolutely gorgeous, a showcase of good taste and money well spent. Tom is only a few months younger than me, and each staged room of his home reflects back to me my own monetary stupidity and foolhardiness.

Tom's living room with custom-built bookshelves

Breakfast in the making

My kitchen

What makes the difference between people like Tom and me? I asked Tom how he got here. He has a very good paying job and makes a lot of money now. But we all know that earning a lot of money doesn’t guarantee financial success. According to The Millionaire Next Door (and Ben Franklin), the main key to wealth is spending less than you make.

If you know how to spend less than you get, you have the philosopher’s stone. –Benjamin Franklin

Tom tries to pay cash for everything. If he really needs something he can’t afford, he buys it on credit, but only if he can pay the debt off by the end of the tax year. When he started working he was making roughly $5.50 an hour. When he got a raise to $10, he lived on $7.50 (because California was expensive) and saved the difference. He continued this habit his working life.

And here’s the amazing part that people living on credit don’t appreciate: When you spend less than you earn and save the difference, you will have money to pay cash for things you need. Imagine that!

Society comprises two classes: those who have more food than appetite, and those who have more appetite than food. –Sébastien-Roch Nicholas de Chamfort, Maximes

Tom has also invested in appreciating assets. In the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad: What the Rich Teach Their Kids About Money–That the Poor and Middle Class Do Not!, the key lesson imparted by the rich dad is that money should be spent on appreciating assets, like homes, real estate, stocks, and bonds, and not on depreciating assets, like cars, motor homes, boats, and trailers.

What did I do? I saw something I liked, and if I couldn’t afford it, I bought it on credit. I carried the credit a long time giving away my earnings as interest, because I was so busy “consuming” that I couldn’t pay off my debt.

The credit industry worked on my ego by giving me a score that reflected my trustworthiness and success. And when it came to credit cards, no gold or silver for me. My card was platinum. I had a $15,000 credit limit. On just one card.

So the bottom line is to spend less than you earn. Period. Just start there.

Earlier this week at Robbie’s coffee shop I got into an argument with a state trooper named Will about wealth and retirement. That’s what we do at the coffee shop: argue. Politics, religion, health care, gun control, you name it. Many intelligent, educated, opinionated people hang out at Robbie’s. It’s a great place for stimulating the mind.

Will and I were discussing capitalism, which morphed into an argument about the financial health of American citizens and their retirement outlook. Will expressed a love for our capitalistic system and believed capitalism made America the great country it is.

I asked Will, “How’s it working so far? People are broke and in perpetual debt on a treadmill of consumerism.” I wasn’t actually arguing against capitalism, but against the statement that our country was great. I said that most people would be unable to retire with the same level of comfort they have while employed. He disagreed and stated that most people would be able to retire comfortably. He thought that most people were financially secure.

Will said repeatedly to me, “I deal with facts. I don’t know where you get your information, but I’m talking facts.” When I told him only 3 percent of the population would be able to retire comfortably, Will laughed at me, exclaiming, “Where’d you get that from?” I got it from John Cummuta, a financial educator I trust.

After being told for the fourth time that he dealt in facts (as opposed to my emotional, fictional argument), I asked where he got his facts. He said, “Well, define wealth.” I told him, “You’re the one that said people are wealthy. So you define wealth.” He couldn’t so I offered that wealth was the ability to retire and enjoy the same level of comfort as that had while employed. This included being debt-free and able to pay for gas, taxes, food, travel and goods. He agreed to this definition.

But when pressed for his sources, he said he couldn’t pull them out of his butt at the moment. He couldn’t offer me the title of any book, any publication, study, anything that would substantiate his claim. Eventually he admitted that he “talked to people.”

“Talked to people? You mean you have determined that we’re all wealthy by talking to people in Lane county?” No, he talks to people all over the US. Sorry, but that’s hardly statistical, representative evidence that most people are wealthy and retiring comfortably. But that was all this facts-based man was able to come up with.

The funniest thing about the conversation was that Will determined that my view was based on emotion, because most people he argues with come from a position of emotion and faith (what they want to believe), not on facts like he had. Okay, I have found that also to be true. But only a closed mind would assume that my argument is based on emotion before even listening to it.

Will himself couldn’t produce any facts. When he couldn’t back up his claim, he tried to denigrate me by calling me a pessimist, meaning that my views were nothing more than projection of a disappointed life.

When you find yourself in a debate, argument, whatever you want to call it, ask for sources. Some people take in information by reading reports and studies. Some base their opinion on a book or two they’ve read. Some people can be very passionate about a subject and devote considerable time to it. Some merely absorb hearsay. Hearsay is:

• unverified, unofficial information gained or acquired from another and not part of one’s direct knowledge
• an item of idle or unverified information or gossip

People are very opinionated, and they’re very passionate about their beliefs. But few, in my experience, take the time to educate themselves on topics of interest. People tend to repeat what they’ve heard their whole lives (societal paradigm) or the latest TV sound bite (media manipulation) without exercising critical thinking.

Faced with the choice between changing one’s mind and proving there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof. –John Kenneth Galbraith

Here’s an example of believing something without testing it. A colleague posted a piece that was attributed to George Carlin. I read through it quickly and posted that it was brilliant. Then someone else proved that it was not Carlin’s work and that Carlin thought it was sappy. I had turned off my critical thinking and accepted at face value that Carlin wrote it. Then, because I thought Carlin was brilliant, I chose to believe this piece was brilliant. It really wasn’t. It was rather dull and sappy, as Carlin said.

I catch myself all the time wanting to read things that agree with my worldview and pass over things that do not. But I’ve been proven wrong so many times, I’ve seen that there are numerous angles to just about everything, that it’s hard to be certain about anything. We’re all just guessing. But the best guesses can be made with the most information.

I went home and looked up income and savings on the Internet, and the picture is pretty dismal and agrees with my “pessimistic” view. But I’ll save that for another post.

This post is in response to a question I received from Sarah in a comment. She asked:

I dont understand why you let yourself slide into this position. Why? bankruptcy.losing your house,credit,credibility,and business and reduced to the kindness of strangers and all that. kinda like all those harvard grads in the banking industry whom have just pushed the US into a depression. they have taxpayers to bail them out, but you don’t.

I’ve blogged a lot about how I got into my current financial situation. You can read about it if you click on the topic of Business and Finance > Finance. It was a combination of business mistakes I made and a failing economy. Books aren’t in high demand when people can’t afford fuel or food.

The economy has been tanking for over two years. Our government is bankrupt. Financial institutions are failing. People all over are losing their jobs and homes. But I didn’t lose my house. I gave it back to the bank. Just like I’m giving back my car. I’m giving it all back and starting over, which is my legal right.

A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it rains.—Robert Frost

Don’t think it was the Harvard grads that pushed us into a depression. They were just doing what they were taught to do and what people wanted them to do. Everything they did was perfectly legal. Just like my bankruptcy is legal.

Our problems started when we allowed fractional reserve banking and were compounded by the creation of the IRS and the Federal Reserve.

This cycle repeats. People get into debt, can’t pay it, and the banks take possession of houses and property, property on which they have often already received huge sums of money through finance charges. If they risk too much and lose, the government bails them out by printing money, and our currency is further devalued. Businesses are bought for a fraction of their value. Stocks are devalued and snatched up by the wealthy who sell them when they recover.

If you owe the bank $100 that’s your problem. If you owe the bank $100 million, that’s the bank’s problem.—J. Paul Getty

It’s like this: I am a banker. I have the ability to create fake money but my customer base is tapped out. So I dream up a new scheme that allows a new customer base–poor people with no credit–to own homes. So I teach Harvard grads how they can get rich with this new system, and they go out and sell it to the public. I’m so very clever.

I know I can get the poor people to pay me 30% interest for a while before they default, if they default. But when they default, my government covers my loss. Meanwhile, I’ve pocketed the interest and lived high on the hog. I risked nothing.

You see, I paid to put the politicians in place who would establish laws that allowed me to get away with usury and that cover me in case of default. I own all the media, which is constantly drumming into your head that you need silly things that cost a lot of money. I own stock in all the major corporations that produce garbage for you to buy. And I own stock in the pharmaceutical companies that make the antidepressants and drugs that treat the diseases that your stress produces, stress further compounded by the nightly terror known as “TV news.” And when I really want to speed things up, I start a war, finance both sides and then buy up the countries when they are bankrupt.

The rich become richer and the poor become poorer.

Then the cycle turns and our economy booms, we all bet on a happy future by buying houses and cars and TVs and boats (all financed, of course), we’re happy for a season and it starts all over again.

OUR MONEY IS BEING HARVESTED.

And we’re offered a million entertainments, drugs, and pharmaceuticals to dumb us down and keep us from revolting. Well, I’m not on drugs, pharmaceuticals or benumbed by entertainments. On the contrary. This situation has compelled me to learn about how I got here, how the banking system works, how money was created. I have educated myself into clarity. And I’m checking out of the system.

I haven’t been reduced to the kindness of strangers (not sure where you got that from), nor have I lost credibility. I have lost my high credit score, which simply means that I will no longer be able to borrow imaginary money from banks (strangers) and pay exhorbitant finance charges that not long ago were illegal in this country.

I made a choice that was in my best interest. I decided I was not going to work for the banks for the next twenty years. I choose freedom.

If you really want to help the economy, get out of the credit game, no matter the cost. Pay off the debt or get out via bankruptcy. It’s only when we stop relying on the banks and begin working together as a community that we’ll be able to avoid the ups and downs manipulated by bankers.

The modern banking system manufactures money out of nothing. The process is perhaps the most astounding piece of sleight-of-hand that was ever invented. Banking was conceived in inequity and born in sin… But if you want to continue to be slaves of the bankers and pay the cost of your own slavery, then let the bankers continue to create money and control credit. –Josiah Charles Stamp

I leave you with this humorous tale.

An American INVESTMENT BANKER was at the pier of a small coastal Greek village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna.

The American complimented the Greek on the quality of his fish and asked, “How long does it take to catch them?” The Greek replied: “Only a little while”.

The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Greek said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Greek fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play cards with my friends, I have a full and busy life.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Athens, then London and eventually New York where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

The Greek fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?” To which the American replied, “15-25 years.” “But what then?” The American laughed and said that’s the best part. “When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”

“Millions … Then what?” The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play cards with your friends.”

Some of my books

Do what you love. When I began selling books I was looking for a new home-based business. I had had a word processing business the past seven years, but recurrent tendonitis in my fingers made typing painful. I had bought picture framing equipment as my next business, and did some framing from my home, but the logistics were too involved and I decided against that business. (But I can do a great framing job now.) I began auctioning my personal library to downsize because I wanted to move out of California. The auctions brought in money and I enjoyed them. On my way home from a massage I saw a sign for an estate sale that included books. The books were only 25 cents each, so I bought four boxes. So much for downsizing. Thus began my book business, and I loved it.

Learn what you can from available sources. Very early on I found the seller discussion board on Amazon where I learned from very generous people who shared their knowledge. I read books on business management and marketing and learned various software programs. I bought books from competitors to see how they communicated, graded books and packaged them. The downside is I spent too much time on the boards. Virtual people don’t hold a candle to real people. They are a diversion. They’re also safe. Don’t get too involved in discussion boards. Avoid this time waster.

Emulate successful people. A year into selling I was burned out buying and listing used books one at a time because of my tendonitis. I saw that those sellers with the most feedback were selling remainders and overstock. So I emulated them and began selling remainders. I was successful for many years and made a lot of money.

Pay yourself first. This is one rule I didn’t follow, to my detriment. I kept pumping money back into the business buying more and more inventory. I should have been saving for retirement or for a downpayment on a house. Instead, I was piling up inventory. What good is sitting on $200,000 worth of books?

ALWAYS pay payroll taxes. You’d be surprised how many people don’t pay payroll taxes. I couldn’t afford to and thought I’d make up for it later. Huge mistake.

Avoid debt. We’re taught that using Other People’s Money to generate income is a wise use of debt. Sure, it can work. It can also backfire on you. I would say that debt on appreciating assets isn’t so bad, but on depreciating assets it’s a recipe for trouble. I bet there’s no greater feeling than knowing that if sales stopped today you could pay your rent or mortage and your bills for many months with what you’ve saved. (I wouldn’t know this feeling. I can only imagine it. But I can tell you all about worry if you’d like.) And it’s foolish to save anything when you have debt that demands payment of interest.

Listen to your gut, instincts, god, whatever. If I had paid attention to my gut, I would have moved out of my warehouse a year earlier than I did and I’d probably still have a business today. Not that that’s a good thing for me. I’m not sorry for the way things turned out.

Books brought up from California

Success and failure are both valid outcomes. I heard a story long ago of a man who made a mistake that cost his employer a million dollars. His boss called him into his office. The employee said, “I suppose you’re going to fire me now.” The boss replied, “Fire you? I just paid a million dollars to train you.” Too much emphasis is placed on success as the only valid outcome for an endeavor. We don’t come to this earth to succeed, but to learn and grow. Sometimes we learn through success, sometimes through failure. When we consider success as the only valuable outcome for our efforts, then we may have a tendency to avoid taking risks. Don’t be afraid of failure and don’t let it define you.

Take risks and try new things. This one was easy for me. I was always trying something different. Some things cost me time and money, but most risks were worth it and paid off. The last risk I took helped ruin my business. Oh well.

Don’t let your business consume all your time. I’ve been an addict all my life. Cigarettes, alcohol, work. My bookselling business was just the latest addiction that helped distract me from my life. I worked every day, often ten to twelve hours a day. My life was unbalanced. When I worked for others I attended night classes at the local college to learn things like playing piano and guitar, reading music, acting, drawing, ceramics. I had hobbies and interests. But once I was self-employed I never took another class. I mostly stayed home. I put all my energy into my businesses. This is a distortion and distraction that must be guarded against.

Owning a business is very different from working for someone else. When most people are employed by someone they can leave in the afternoon and forget about their job. It’s someone else’s worry. But when you own a business, you own it 24/7. You are the marketer, bookkeeper, supply clerk, customer service rep, president, janitor. You’re it! Taking a couple weeks off requires a lot of preparation. You are always a business owner and that takes a mental toll. So it’s really important that you choose a business that you love. Why give up so many hours doing something you don’t like just to make money?

Entrepreneurs aren’t necessarily good business owners. I love creating things and building them. I love organizing and streamlining. I hate maintaining. So starting and building my bookselling business was great fun. But once I ran out of new things to try, I lost interest. When I had to maintain the business, I got very bored. I should have sold the business two years ago when my interest waned, but I didn’t have enough confidence in myself that I could find something else to do. (This was my third business.) But that’s okay too. I’m now ready for the next step in my evolution.

When it’s time, move on. You’ll know when it’s time to move on to something else. If you’ve paid yourself first, you should hopefully be in a position of financial security. Sell your business as a going concern and then start another one. Don’t let fear or uncertainty keep you in a business you no longer love. Life really is short, as trite as that sounds. What could happen? The worst case is you lose everything. I’m losing everything, just about, and it’s not killing me. In fact, it’s invigorating. The best scenario is you pocket a lot of money and retire or have a good amount to invest in something else. Maybe you move to a less populated state, buy a house for cash, and start a business doing what you really want to do.

Chase was calling me two to four times a week asking for money they know I didn’t have. I would feel my body tighten up whenever the phone rang. As much as I tried to make a game of it, I was still getting stressed by the frequency of calls.

Chase calls yet again

Each time I spoke with them I explained my situation, and they went through their script: “When can you make a payment? Is there anyone you can borrow the money from to make a payment? Can we schedule a payment today for later in the week?” Sometimes I would simply say, “Nothing has changed. I have no money. Talk to you in a few days.”

I never felt comfortable hanging up on them, because it was just a person doing a crummy job. But some of those people seemed to like their job too much. And for the others, I can’t imagine the stress they are under making these oppressive calls day after day.

FYI: Chase business calls come from America. Chase consumer comes from India.

Finally, for a mere $9, I changed my number to an unlisted number. I already know I’m going to be filing for bankruptcy, so why keep taking the calls and risking my health? I have no job. There’s no money.

I’m guessing it was Chase who sold my email address, as it’s in keeping with their behavior. I received 35 spam emails a couple days ago referring to debt. Somehow, I’ve also gotten on the email list for improving sexual dysfunction. What a world we live in!

So peace reigns in my home now. I gave the number to a few close friends. I’ve decided now’s a good time to break with the family as well. They won’t notice my number is no longer listed anyway.

But now I’m getting computerized calls to extend my car warranty, hook up cable television, help lower my mortgage interest rate and get me low interest credit cards. Our nation should have a DO NOT BOTHER OR BE LASHED registry.

I did something yesterday I haven’t done in a long time: I relaxed and did nothing.

Around ten o’clock yesterday morning I laid in the sun for half an hour to produce melanin and vitamin D. Several of my cats joined me but the sun was too hot, so they settled in the shade. It was a very hot day. And it was a lazy day.

After sunning I laid my towel on the grass in the shade and just relaxed. No book. No music. No input but the song of birds, the light rustle of the leaves in the breeze, the buzzing and humming of insects, the intermittent sound of my neighbor’s table saw and the occasional traveler in car and bike.

Toby sprawled out next to me. Aggie groomed herself for an hour beside me, slurping and snorting. Chester climbed the apple tree and then collapsed in the grass. The orange kittens played around and on my body and chased insects and waving weeds. Puddy alternated between resting and tackling a kitten who cried piteously and had to be rescued.

I relaxed for three hours. I and my tribe were at peace (except for the kitten with that big brute Puddy holding him down). I gave little thought to money. I entertained no fear and only a little worry. I just enjoyed the warmth of the air and the companionship of my feline friends.

Overwork of the Self-employed

I’ve been self-employed since 1993, and I’ve worked most weekends. I’ve been selling books online since 2000, and I became obsessive and imbalanced in that work. It consumed all my time and thoughts. How could I think of laying in the grass for three hours when I had so much work to do?

This business and its demise has been the greatest learning experience of my life. It reminds me of a story I read where an employee lost his company a million dollars. When called into his boss’s office he asked, “I suppose you’re going to fire me” to which the boss replied, “Fire you? I just paid a million to train you!”

Perhaps my changed outlook is just a result of mid-life, of hormonal changes. But I imagine that if my business had not begun to fail, that I would still be working weekends, still chasing the elusive dollar to build a life I would at some time in the future enjoy. Always in the future. Work’s gotta get done now. No time for life.

Often the difference between a successful person and a failure is not one has better abilities or ideas, but the courage that one has to bet on one’s ideas, to take a calculated risk – and to act. –Andre Malraux

I really dislike using the word “fail.” It implies wrongdoing or incompetence and neglects the growth and learning potential inherent in failure. It suggests that success is preferable, when success is just another avenue of growth and learning. Are we humans here to amass riches and entertain ourselves? Or are we here to learn and grow and evolve? Why do we allow failure to dictate our value or contribution?

Actually, my business never failed. It just didn’t generate the cashflow needed in a failing economy to maintain my poor choices. It was my home buying expertise that was lacking. My common sense and judgment are what failed. When I knew it was time to move on to something else, I let fear dictate my inaction.

I’ve succeeded at most things I’ve tried. This is the first time I’ve really “failed.” But did I fail? I don’t think so. I successfully paid my way doing something I loved for a season, then bought into the bigger-is-better model and tried to build my business beyond my interest. I took a risk on something and it didn’t work out. Would I have been better off not risking? Wouldn’t you rather risk new things and possibly fail than just plod along?

Life is risk. Sometimes risk is rewarded with success; sometimes not. But don’t let the failure or success of an endeavor determine your worth or discourage you from risking again. Just learn from it and grow. And risk again.

“Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.” –Katherine Mansfield

I leave you with a great song from one of my favorite Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, the film Swing Time (1936) with lyrics by Dorothy Fields and music by Jerome Kern.

Pick Yourself Up

[He]
Please teacher, teach me something,
Nice teacher, teach me something.
I’m as awkward as a camel, that’s not the worst,
My two feet haven’t met yet,
But I’ll be teacher’s pet yet,
‘Cause I’m gonna learn to dance or burst.

[She]
Nothing’s impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up,
Dust myself off,
Start All over again.

Don’t lose your confidence if you slip,
Be grateful for a pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.

Work like a soul inspired,
Till the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But you’ll be a man, my son!

Will you remember the famous men,
Who had to fall to rise again?
So take a deep breath,
Pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.

[He]
I’ll get some self assurance
If your endurance is great.
I’ll learn by easy stages
If you’re courageous and wait.
To feel the strength I want to,
I must hang on to your hand,
Maybe by the time I’m fifty
I’ll get up and do a nifty.

[Both]
Nothing’s impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up,
Dust myself off,
Start all over again.

Don’t lose your confidence if you slip,
Be grateful for a pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.

Work like a soul inspired,
Till the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But you’ll be a man, my son!

Will you remember the famous men,
Who had to fall to rise again?
So take a deep breath,
Pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.

Jamie has called and left several messages for me to call back, so I returned his call on Thursday. He’s with Chase Bank that holds my second mortgage. He’s concerned that I’m behind on my house payments, and he wants to see what he can do to help me get caught up.

I explained to Jamie about my business, the past due payroll taxes and that the IRS won’t let me stay in the house. He wanted to know if I was going to do a short sale, and I said no. He expressed concern over my situation and asked if he could put me on hold for a moment. What he did was pass me off to an aggressive female whose job it was to intimidate me. The conversation went something like this:

She said “I was just talking with Jamie about your situation. We need to take care of this so we can get you caught up on your payments.”

“I’m not going to get caught up. In a week I won’t have a job.”

“What do you intend to do about the house? Are you trying to sell it.”

“No, I’m not going to sell it. I’m just giving it back.”

“What do you mean you’re giving it back?”

“I’m going to let the bank foreclose on it. Indymac Bank is going to have to foreclose.”

“It doesn’t work that way. You can’t just give the house back.”

“Sure I can.”

“You have a contractual obligation. Here’s what you need to do. You need to put a For Sale sign up on the house.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If you don’t do that there will be consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“I know Jamie discussed them with you. There will be severe repercussions.”

“Such as?”

“If you’re going to be nonchalant about it, I guess you’re going to have to find out the hard way.”

That’s when I hung up on her. Chase Bank is the most aggressive bank and has the rudest people in collections. Last week another woman was yelling at me on the phone. They call every week with the same set of questions.

I’ve got nothing more to lose. I’ve lost my 740 credit rating. I’m closing my business on Tuesday. I’m losing my home. The past two months I’ve tried to sell as much inventory as possible to pay the IRS. Next week I need to take a full inventory of my books and sell or auction it off, wrap up my affairs, pack my belongings, and move. I have neither the time nor the inclination to try to sell an overpriced house in a market that’s not buying. For the first time in my life, I’m taking care of ME and damn contractual obligations.

Yeah, I was Stupid

I remember when I was very young asking my mother if I could have something. She said, “We don’t have any money.” So I said, “Then write a check.” I had no idea what a check was. The next week bookshelves were delivered to the house. Mom never taught me about money or finance or saving. She just taught me about spending.

I was stupid. I admit it. I paid too much for my house. Wasn’t the first time I made a poor money decision. I seem to have made a great deal of them in my lifetime. Much of the money I’ve earned has been given to the banks in the form of interest. I’ve consistently bought depreciating assets, haven’t saved, haven’t invested. But from what I understand, I’m pretty typical of my my my generation.

And why is that? Are Americans stupid about money? Or is it because we’ve grown up in a paradigm we don’t question, a paradigm of success and happiness through credit? How many people can save money to pay for a car with cash? And being bombarded all day in billboards, radio, print ads, and television that X car is sleek and sexy, Y car is reliable and safe, Z car is fast and youthful, is it any wonder we try to buy the car that promises to enhance our marketability or driving “experience”? Who wants to drive a clunker?

My car has a cracked windshield, and I’m embarrassed by it. I know it’s irrational. What does a cracked windshield have to do with my self-worth? Nothing. But isn’t it true that we judge people by the cars they drive. I’ve always been able to afford to replace a windshield. Now the cracked windshield is testament to my poor financial status.

Before you think you’re above such things, would you date a guy in an old rusty and dented Pinto? Would you trust a real estate agent if she drove up in a beat-up Ford truck? Let’s get real. A whole class of “professionals” (doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs) is expected to demonstrate their success in what they drive, where they live, what clothes they wear.

My purse is starting to fall apart. It’s fraying and rubbed. It still works, still carries my stuff. But I’m embarrassed by it. I don’t like shopping, so the idea of having to find another purse I like and pay money for it is a pain. I like my purse. But I don’t like others seeing it.

As an exercise in materialism, what do you have that’s embarrassing to you because of what others might think or how they might judge you? And how have you judged others by what they drive, what they wear?

And now, for your entertainment, here’s a humorous skit on investing and subprime lending.

In a previous post (Inflation: Why Your Dollar Just Doesn’t Buy As Much) I posted two videos from YouTube about money and inflation. I was so intrigued by those videos that I bought a couple books to learn more.

In this post I would like to discuss the claims made in the first video that I believe are incorrect. The narrator’s basic claim is that we have inflation because the dollar has been taken off the gold standard, meaning the dollar is no longer backed by gold. The current dollar, our Federal Reserve Note, has a value subject to manipulation whereas gold has maintained value over time.

The Constitution says that Congress has the right:

To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the Standard of Weights and Measures

But our governing leaders could never determine exactly what “money” should be or who should make it. Gold and silver were used for the payment of debts, but gold was leaving the country to pay for imports and taxes. Not enough gold was being mined to replace the gold shipped overseas or to expand with the population and economy.

In the late 17th century Massachusetts began printing its own paper money–government IOUs to be repaid at a later date–to pay militiamen and their widows for a military campaign against Canada. Then other colonies printed their own money, either backed by hard currency or legal tender itself. In the early 18th century Benjamin Franklin printed money as currency secured against future tax revenues.

The colonies prospered. Money was no longer being drained off by England. Colonial assemblies began issuing paper money as loans at low interest rates that were backed by real property or other assets. The interest paid on these loans was put back into circulation, not siphoned off by private parties. Some of the loans were never paid off and helped increase the money supply to keep pace with a growing economy. Money also came into the country via import duties.

But some of the colonies printed too much money and did not require it to be recycled back to the government in the form of excise taxes or interest on loans, so their money began to depreciate. The American colonies were expected to provide raw materials to England at reasonable rates, and British merchants and bankers weren’t too happy about the depreciation of their investments. They successfully petitioned King George II to ban the issuance of new paper money in the colonies in 1751.

In 1764, Benjamin Franklin visited London to try to get the ban lifted. But the Bank of England influenced Parliament to pass the Currency Act making it illegal for the colonies to print their own paper money. This caused the money supply to be reduced by half and colonists had to pay taxes to Britain in silver and gold. If they didn’t have it, they had to borrow it at high interest. Within a year poverty and unemployment abounded. The colonists revolted and began printing their own money again, which was a crime considered intolerable by the crown. And so began the Revolution.

But the Revolutionary war cost a lot of money to wage, and the new government had to pay for it. So the new continental congress issued its own paper currency called the Continental with which they funded the war. Most of this paper was issued as IOUs to be redeemed after the war. But British bankers counterfeited the Continental and flooded the colonies with it, reducing its value. Its value was finally ruined by speculators who convinced the population that it would be worthless when America lost the war and then bought it up for a fraction of its value.

The war over money continued with the chartering of private banks, dissolution of same, money printed as IOUs, money printed as legal tender, wars, depressions, etc., until the Federal Reserve Bank, a private bank without reserves, was legalized by the government. And it’s been downhill ever since.

Our government, which has the constitutional right to print its own money interest-free, has been tricked by private bankers into borrowing the money at interest and has been falling into greater and greater debt thereby. And who pays the interest on the debt?

The Real Reason for Inflation

Our banks use fractional reserve banking. They are required to keep a reserve of money in their vaults to service the customer withdrawals on any given day. They are allowed to loan out ten times what they take in deposits.

For example, I deposit $100 in my checking account. The bank reserves $10 and loans $90 to you. You spend your $90, which is then deposited in another checking account. The bank reserves $9 and loans out $81. And on and on. Thus $100 physical dollars are used to create $900 ledger dollars, all of which are earning interest. But where will the interest come from to pay the debt? It hasn’t been created by the bank. If you create $10 and expect $11 back, where does the extra $1 come from? You have to fight your neighbor for it from an increasingly reduced supply.

So the $100 ends up becoming $10 because $900 was lent but $990 was repaid. Get it? And who got the $90? Yes, some of it came back into the economy, but those rich bankers are sitting on most of it and controlling the world by funding some corporations and witholding funds from others, buying politicians and lobbies, buying the media that feeds you information they want you to believe, and then contracting the money supply and pulling in the defaulting banks and properties like a great net pulls in schools of fish. Meanwhile, the $100 in my checking account that allowed them to earn $90 is earning ZERO. In fact, I’m paying $10 a month to maintain that account. How whacked is that?

Reserve requirements apply only to transaction accounts, which are components of M1, a narrowly defined measure of money. Deposits that are components of M2 and M3 (but not M1), such as savings accounts and time deposits such as CDs, have no reserve requirements and therefore can expand without regard to reserve levels. Furthermore, the Federal Reserve operates in a way that permits banks to acquire the reserves they need to meet their requirements from the money market, so long as they are willing to pay the prevailing price (the federal funds rate) for borrowed reserves. Consequently, reserve requirements currently play a relatively limited role in money creation in the United States.–Wikipedia

Does that make sense? The 10 percent reserve requirement only applies to accounts like your checking account where you can remove the money at any time by withdrawal, writing a check, or using a debit card. And even then the reserve may not be required. But no reserve is required on savings accounts, time deposits, etc.

This means the bank can make as much money as their shareholders think they can get away with. They just have to make sure they have enough in reserve to handle the withdrawal demands at the window. This is why banks get in trouble financially and have to be bailed out by the government (um, that’s you and me again). They loan more money than they should and often imprudently. And if too many people demand withdrawal of their money on a given day, called a “run on the bank,” the bank can become insolvent if they’re not able to borrow the shortfall.

It’s not the Federal Reserve printing money that causes inflation. That’s just an end effect of the true cause: the banks creating debt money on which interest is due. Increased credit creates more interest debt and subsequent inflation. The screwy thing is that if we paid all the debt back we wouldn’t have any money! At least that’s my understanding. If you have another take on it, please comment. I’d love to hear it.

The real issue…was not what money consisted of but who created it. Whether the medium of exchange was gold or paper or numbers in a ledger, when it was lent into existence by private lenders and was owed back to them with interest, more money would always be owed back than was created in the first place, spiraling the economy into perpetual debt. A dollar borrowed at 6 percent interest, compounded annually, grows in 100 years to be a debt of $13,781. That is true whether the money takes the form of gold or paper or accounting entries. The banks lend the dollar into existence but not the additional $13,780 needed to pay the loan off, forcing the public to go further and further into debt in search of the ephemeral interest due on their money-built-on-debt. Merchants continually have to raise their prices to try to cover this interest tab, producing perpetual price inflation.” –Ellen Hodgson Brown, J.D. The Web of Debt

(The information in this post was derived mostly from Ellen Hodgson Brown’s book referenced above.)

I’m came across an article today about a couple that killed themselves and their four golden retrievers:

“It is believed that the Donacas committed suicide after attempts to save their home following a foreclosure notice left them believing they had few options,” the Crook County Sheriff’s Office said in a report.

Before I decided to file for bankruptcy, I spent many nights unable to fall asleep because my mind kept obsessing over my bills. I needed to sell my motor home. But to do that, I needed to get it detailed and have the couch reupholstered. But it had also developed a hydraulic leak. I needed to get a hydraulic hose replaced, the fluid refilled, and the batteries charged. I couldn’t drive it, so I’d have to hire a mobile mechanic.

But I couldn’t afford that because I was driving on bald tires on my car. I needed $650 for new tires. Then there was the 50-year-old apple tree that fell over in my front yard across the front walkway. Then the apple tree in the backyard fell over. These are old trees, and I’m in a flood plain. I hadn’t cut them back (didn’t know I should), and they grew so top heavy that they just fell over. Their roots had been dying from water rot.

I bought a chainsaw to try and cut them down. I figured it cost less to buy the chainsaw and cut them myself than to hire someone to come out and do it. But it was just too big of a job. I couldn’t do it alone. I needed a ladder, but I couldn’t afford to buy one. I’d blown everything on the chainsaw. I also sliced the back of my hand open with an ax, so I was a little nervous about the chainsaw.

My electric bill over the winter was between $250 and $300 a month. And I was paying a mover to move my book inventory from my warehouse to my house. Each trip cost between $500 and $600 (books are very heavy), and he made maybe eight trips. But my income was reduced because I couldn’t list and sell books that were boxed and being moved.

So here I am, in bed. I’ve been thinking about money and debt more than a 16-year-old boy thinks about sex. I’m fading, fading, fading into that sweet point between wakefulness and the dream state and BAM! I’m awake. My body is now vibrating from the jolt. I’ve GOT to sell my motor home. But I need tires. How am I going to get tires? It’s not safe driving this car in the rain. The mover is bringing another load tomorrow. I have to pay him. Awake, awake. My mind racing. My body tense. I cry from frustration and helplessness.

Life has never been more secure, really, for many people in the world. Our power over nature has never been greater, in every way–and yet we’ve never been so uneasy. The Bushmen in the Kalahari–who had none of the things we have, where life was the ancient life of the hunter, unpredictable and dangerous–felt more secure than we feel in the midst of our plenty, alone at night in our beds. –Sir Laurens van der Post

Finally, I would drift off to sleep, but when I woke in the morning the first thing I thought about was my bills. Who had to be paid next? How much did I now have? How could I get more money? Oh, God, the car payment is due in three days. Shit, I need to pay my packaging supplier. I have to fix my motor home. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet!

I was Making Myself Sick

We’re not supposed to live like this! I was making myself sick. I can’t even count the number of gray hairs I have now, but two years ago it was just a few here and there. I kept picking piles of my hair up off the floor. I was poisoning my body with worry and fear. I could have the best diet, a healthy exercise program, the cleanest air and water imaginable, a pile of good, close friends, and the stress alone could kill me.

Whenever I would feel myself tense up, I would hear my friend Tom say, “Breathe.” Just breathe, I told myself. That’s what I did. Whenever I would feel tense, worried or fearful, when I would feel panic threaten to overwhelm, I would take a deep breath and tell myself, “It’s only money. What’s the worst they can do?”

And I practiced what Eckhart Tolle wrote about in The Power of Now, an excellent spiritual book on living in the present moment. I would sit in my chair, and ask myself if I lacked anything, if anything was wrong. No, nothing was wrong. I had eaten so I wasn’t hungry. I was warm. I was comfortable in my chair. The present moment was free from concern. There was nothing RIGHT NOW that was wrong. And I would release the fear.

It was only when I remembered the past or imagined a fictional future that I became fearful and tense. Live in the present moment. Breathe. Forget the past. Leave the future to itself. This moment I am content and at peace. But if you worry enough to make yourself sick or if you carry pain, then that will intrude into the present moment.

It is idle to dread what you cannot avoid. –Publius Syrus (whoever the hell that was)

Really, aren’t all our worries a result of imagining a future that has not yet arrived? Why borrow trouble? Why leap ahead and live in a moment that doesn’t exist anywhere but in your own mind?

Remembering when I was Happy

I remember when I was in the Army in Colorado at my first post. I moved eleven times in thirteen months. The last place I lived was a small mother-in-law cottage in Colorado Springs. I had it all to myself. It had a small living room with a Murphy in-a-door bed, a small kitchen and a tiny bathroom. I owned one of those cheap stereos you get as a kid that had a turntable, radio and cassette player all in one box. I bought it when I was about 14 years old for $40. I had few possessions. I would write a check for $5 at 7-11 to buy a pack of smokes and get laundry money, and I would be tapped out. I was always borrowing $5 or $20 from my boss until payday. I was only making around $440 a month.

But I was HAPPY. I was free! I loved living alone in my own little house with my own little porch and walkway. I had my Toyota Corona Mark II that I bought for $650 (through a signature loan at the credit union), and I had bought a Honda 350 SL motorcycle. They were paid for. My friend John and I would ride around Colorado Springs and up into the mountains on warm, sunny days, every smell and patch of warm or cold air available to my senses. All I needed was a couple gallons of gas to have hours of good fun.

Now I am fettered by belongings. The greatest burden I bare are my cats, and I don’t regret them. But I am willing to lose everything else if need be. It’s all just stuff. What of your stuff is so important that your life will be diminished over its loss?

Do you remember buying your first piece of furniture? Your first lamp? The first rug? Your pots and pans? Your coffee pot? All that stuff you could get at Good Will for next to nothing. Wouldn’t you rather live in a shack with a cheap lamp and your mind free to imagine beautiful things and time to spend with friends and family–now that you’re not working so many hours–than in a fine house with expensive furniture and a mind full of worry and fear and always in a hurry because there’s just never enough time?

Figure Out Your Priorities

Anyway, get your priorities straight. Figure out what you really want. Then get it. Do it. Decide it. You really can do anything you want. If you can’t pay off your debt in a reasonable amount of time, file bankruptcy. If you can make your house payment, you can keep the house. The only people you hurt in filing bankruptcy are rich bankers who don’t give a shit about you. You’re not hurting the economy. The economy is the way it is because our monetary system is corrupt. (If you didn’t watch the videos in my previous post, you’re not going to understand what I’m saying, so please go watch them.)

And who cares what other people think? Do you want to keep slaving away, getting sick with worry, destroying vital relationships because someone might not approve? Because the Pamela’s of the world think you should be ashamed? Forget them. You’ve only got the one lifetime this time around. Time is running out. The time to live is now.

I know a woman who has credit card debt that makes her worry. She lives with her boyfriend. He bought her a pair of $90 earrings. She spends her money on crap too. But she sends in the minimum monthly payment–forever.

Imagine if you didn’t have to think about money all day long. Imagine if there were no bills coming in the mail other than utilities. Remember how happy you were when you were a teenager and didn’t have anything but time to spend with friends? Sell off your possessions if you have to to get out from under the debt. Go without that blended mocha drink and put that toward your debt. Sell your car and buy a cheaper model. Do whatever you have to to unhook from the system.

Once you’re out of debt, buy that beautiful lamp you want with C*A*S*H. The pleasure’s usually in the finding and buying, not the having. Isn’t it?