the cost of living

I woke up this morning in a panic. I’m afraid of not having enough money. I’m afraid of stretching out so thin and so vaporous that I’ll perish. The question of money making has yet to land as squarely in front of me as it now is. I’ve attempted to avoid being consumed with the task by deciding to not need much of it. I also chose the task of caregiving when I had babies which distanced me from the direct transactions in the years my husband made most of the money. Neither of these circumstances currently exist, I’m not with a partner and having three kids at home makes even a barebones budget quite hefty to carry. From this spot I’ve got several options, all of which are too boring and ordinary to elucidate here. But what I wish to explore are the underlying conditions and motivations for how I will approach this problem of needing money. Because what I am feeling a pull toward is abandon. To abandon my values, put my head down, and get the bills paid, however I have to do it. I don’t expect to be free from all compromise but as I navigate this season I want to outline for myself my intentions as I go about this task of unoptional bill paying.

I now commit myself to solving this problem as an artist and as a mother, I disidentify with notions that my morality and value is attached to being a producer of income. On behalf of all lovers, of all children, of all creatures, I will not participate in the reproduction of this economic system without also participating in its demise. I will participate in gestures of mutual aid, value swapping, and looting. I will offer my experience, skills, and self in the service of love and re-membering culture to earth. I choose to initiate a dialogue with capitalism in the process of getting money. I choose to creatively approach this task to ignite a transformation and adventure into unexplored pathways, ushering in a new era of discovery and innovation through subversion. I choose joy and I release narratives of shame and/or pride in my (in)abilty to fund my life through earned income.

I’ve been called entitled and that I need to grow up and face reality. It’s possible this is true but I don’t think so. I think I value life as sacred and my sensitivity does not allow me to participate in exploitation and ideologies of separation that produce suffering. I can’t see why or how it is important to merely survive, especially if the result is only for my children to inherit a sicker world in which they will too be forced to participate in the destruction of life. No fucking thank you. Call me lazy or bratty or immature. I’ll call myself committed to love. Love of my life and love of life ongoing, embodied in all iterations of matter everywhere.

This is a time of endings and I am called to be here for it. I vow(ed) to attend to the breaking apart of the imperialistic epoch and to be a part of helping humanity accept the fundamental order of life and the Earth. Currently I have bills to pay but I will not allow the current order of things to swallow up the work that is most important.