Astute readers will note that my stack of saved bills is significantly smaller than in past weeks. That's because I was changing money at a local business expo, so I couldn't commit my small bills to Poseidon's care. I've been using smaller bills precisely because the growing pile conveys a visual message of growing wealth, but this week's twenties represent more wealth than last week's singles and twos. What now?
Readers probably think this is obvious, but there's an important lesson here. Our senses can mislead us as to value, as to power, as to worth. The value of a bill is caused by our society collectively imbuing it with that value. It's much the same as how an object is charged for magical use or sanctified for religious purpose: the physical substance does not always correlate with what's within.
One of the reasons we fail to save money is because we fear it, and what we fear we don't think about as if that will make the fears -- and their causes -- go away. To solve this problem in myself, and keep me on track, I am awash in money; I started a money-changing business. Money changers have a long history, because for every solution money brings in simplifying exchanges, it creates three more for people that have the wrong kind of money. I deal solely in United States currency, because merchants in my area often don't have the right kind of money to give in change, particularly when banks are closed.
Immersing myself in money forces me to think about money, which is actually as much of a challenge for me as it is for other middle- and lower-class folks whose lives are in many ways defined by the stuff. It also allows me to engage with money magically, for every exchange is an opportunity to use money's true power. It makes my every transaction more intentional, and the results are in: I expected to be struggling to keep up with this challenge by now, but I'm not.
Pictured are some of the tools I use in my money work: a dedicated candle (with matches), another candle holder I use for a long-term money spell, my wallet, prosperity oil, and of course the money I have thus far accumulated in the Pagan savings challenge.
Perhaps more important are the non-physical tools, some of which I have touched upon before. They include the ability to lie to oneself ("I don't really have that money"), the power of visualization ("I can see that fireplace insert I'm saving for clearer every day"), and the discernment to know when or if I should deviate from this course and spend my wad prematurely (which will take a really stupendous occasion for me, both because this year has been somewhat fortunate and because I've taught myself to be tight-fisted).
I've hinted at the mystery of ducks and money in previous posts, but as with any true mystery, words can never fully explain it. This is my primary money duck. It is a mutant duck, largely because its eyeball is located on its cute little neck, rather than in a more convenient location, such as its head.
The duck is tied to a deep prosperity, such that the ordinary sense of the word as relating to money, worldly goods, and abundance simply scratch the surface of the depth of the prosperity the duck enfolds and describes.
One of the reasons so may thoughtful people -- including quite a few Pagans -- are reticent to use money money is because it's such an effective tool of war. Money can be used to house, equip, and pay military personnel; it's also the primary weapon of economic sanctions and in trade wars. Could there be war without money? Of course. A more hopeful question to ask is, "Can there be money without war?"
What makes money so powerful and so dangerous is the fact that it can be wielded by anyone, for any purpose. Indeed, the world we live in was largely shaped by our collective-yet-undirected use of money. When we spend to fill a desire, but not with a spiritual intent, the results we seek are often tied to consequences long after the fact.