Mrs. Dude speaks seriously, but not smugly, about money

I was listening to someone interview Rachel Naomi Remen about the 'current economic crisis' when she said the most amazing thing:

"Money is the densest form of human energy."

I have heard Dr. Remen interviewed before, and found her to be unbelievably wise in the simple, straightforward way that wise people often are. Yet, I was taken aback by this simple, yet powerful, observation.

Money isn't just paper, she asserts, it's the physical embodiment of the work we have done in the world. And how we spend that money is a direct reflection of who we are as people--what we value, what we fear, who we are.

Later in the interview she says:
"If you want to find out who a person is (and you might be surprised at what you find out), follow them around and watch them spend their money."

I don't think it's news to anyone that as consumers we "vote with your pocketbook." That we, as people who believe things, owe it to ourselves to be educated about the places we most often spend our money. I think that's something that people have been concerned with since long before the 'economic downturn.'

What was, however, new to me was the idea that we tell our stories in how we spend our money. What are you most afraid of? What do you value? Who are you?

And how do the latte or new shoes you just bought reflect your story?

As right as Remen is, I don't think I would want people following me around and determining who I am based on the things I buy. I fear that I would be seen as shallow and self-absorbed, concerned only with how I appeared to people.

So how do we align our values and our spending? I think it requires hard work and some tough self-evaluation. And I think it demands that we tell our spoiled, petulant inner children "no" once in a while.

Let me tell you a story...

I used to spend a lot of money on books. I would go to a bookstore and spend a long time picking out a stack of books to take home with me. More often than not, most of the books in the stack never got read. The fun was in acquiring the books, though not necessarily in reading them.

If I think about what matters to me, acquiring books would make sense, right? I love to read.

I think that's a perfect valid and valuable way to look at it, especially if I read everything I bought before buying more books.

I came to the conclusion, though, that what I was really saying was that I valued amassing things. That I wanted to insulate myself from the world with good books. That I wanted to be able to say about the newest literary masterpiece, "oh, right, I picked that up but I haven't gotten around to reading it yet."

I decided in early January that I wasn't going to buy any new books unless I absolutely couldn't avoid it. If I wanted to read something, I thought, I'll go to the library.

It was the hardest thing I've ever done. For reals.

But, it's now April. And I have purchased just one book.

The point is that making "good" decisions about how to direct our money is hard. These hard economic times have made it necessary, but what happens if things get better? Will we go back to our 'old' ways of gluttonous consumption?

There are a lot of places where I still need to continue to 'take stock': My dining out habits, the number of cable channels we subscribe to, the magazines I get every month but never read. So please don't see this as smug virtue. It's not.

I just wanted to take a second to think about what Remen has to say. And to challenge you to think about how the direction of your money aligns itself with your story.