Sharing Our Prosperity

(I originally wrote this while on vacation earlier in the month, but I did not have Internet access at the time and forgot to post it later.)

We are on vacation right now, staying with my man's mother in New Jersey with plans to take the train to Manhattan every morning, returning  each evening.  Today, however, our first day here, the weather was cold and rainy so we skipped our daily trip to NYC and hung out with his mom, his sister-in-law and her son.  All of these people are immigrants from South America and listening to stories of their homelands and their moves to the United States leaves me marveling at the will and adaptability of these people and millions more like them.  They love their homelands and their cultures, but, at some point, they realized life was too hard and opportunities too few where they were born.  When each had the chance to risk a new life in a different place, they took it.  Their choices did not come without fear or trepidation or even sadness.  Each regretted the need to leave their families, friends, homes and culture, but they still plunged forward into the unknown future in a strange land, arriving without knowing the language, but with the help of others who had come before and with the hope that they too could have a better life in the United States.  Others around the world make the same brave choices, ending up in the U.S. or Canada or Australia or other countries with more stable economies and political systems.

Two of my man's brothers came first, both having work visas to do jobs that were short on employees in the late 60's.  Later, the six remaining siblings, as well as their parents, immigrated here.  They have all lived here many decades, their children were born and raised here, but still they miss their homeland and try to keep their cultures alive through their native food and music.

I am often ashamed at how Americans treat immigrants.  We can be so stingy and so mean when it comes to accepting those who are different than we are.   We fear that "they" will take what is "ours".  We fear that our culture, which is and always has been a conglomeration of bits and pieces of other cultures, will be wiped away by "their" cultures.  We, ignorantly, think our English language will even be overcome by the native tongues of others.  All of us or our ancestors came here from somewhere else at some time and we forget that and become so possessive of what is "ours".

The idea that English will be replaced by the language of some other group is ridiculous.  Perhaps those who immigrated here will never learn English, and that is understandable for those who live in communities of people speaking the same native language, but it really is not important if those who immigrated speak English because their children will and their grandchildren will.  My grandkids have parents who speak another language and they only speak to their children in that language, but my grandchildren live with me and speak English with me and in school and even with their friends who also know their other language.  They are completely bilingual, but their preferred language is English because that is the language of their culture.  They are bi-lingual but I fear my great-grandchildren will not be.

I admire those who come here with little and create much.  Somehow we think that immigrants come here to live off our welfare systems, when all I see are immigrants who work harder than most of "us" do.  I see many immigrants who struggle to save as much money as possible so they can live the American Dream by owning their own homes and businesses.  They still believe in the American Dream while many of those born here have no idea what the American Dream is.

I am not saying all of this to be political; I am saying this because it has so much to do with how we view the world and ourselves and that affects how we view prosperity.  If we are consumed with preserving what we see as "ours", on a national level or a personal level, we are missing the opportunity to be prosperous, for prosperity has to do with there being enough for all.  If we think of lack, if we feel stingy and self-preserving, we push prosperity away.  If we think small, we live small.  To me, it is sad when we fail to share, when we hoard and refuse to help others.  I believe our hearts need to be bigger so we can give more and, thereby, receive more.

I don't believe we can create abundance and prosperity on an individual level if we embrace the idea of lack in our country, whether for our native-born residents or for those from other countries.  I know many disagree with me, but, for me, my prosperity  is affected my willingness to share my abundance with others.  That does not mean I give everything I have to others, but it means I share generously and I share with love and willingness. It means I think of our country as a community that supports and helps one another.  It means I am willing to pay the taxes needed to keep our infrastructure in good shape and our schools at competitive levels, to pay our educators and civil workers a decent wage, and to provide safety nets for all those who are struggling.  It means I embrace those who wish to have the same opportunities I have and I help those who are less fortunate than me.  That is what I define as true prosperity for me, for my community and for my country and that is what I think about when I vote.  Who embraces prosperity for all, who supports helping others, who is accepting of immigrants, who refuses to think in terms of lack, who shows the most support for our schools, our educators, our civil workers and our infrastructure, who believes that we receive when we give?  Those are the people I can support with a joyful heart.

What Does It Mean?

I am at a women's retreat at Santa Rosa Beach in the Florida Panhandle.  I've never been this far west in the state and I have never attended a retreat that was longer than a day.  We arrived yesterday at noon and will leave tomorrow at noon.  There are seven of us here: the retreat facilitator Vickie Spray, our massage therapist Katrine, myself and four other women.  None of us is like the other.  We are different ages and sizes and we brought different life experinces to this place.  What we do have in common is our desire to release our fears and our willingness to share and support one another on this two-day spiritual journey.  I am grateful for this opportunity, for Vickie creating this welcoming and safe group, for the lovely home where we are staying and the two women I've never met who created such a warm and inviting space and who are allowing those they don't know to experience it.  I am grateful for all the other women here who are sharing deeply, allowing dark corners of their lives to rise to the surface so we can all heal together.  I am thankful for the hours of self-care we are experiencing through naps, conversations, massages, walks, the beach, laughter, and good food.

In the spring I attended the Spritual Faire at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in my town where I met a woman selling hand-made beaded bracelets.  Each one was unique - sizes, colors and types of stones and beads varied.  Some had metal beads with letters or numbers etched on them.  She instructed me to think of a request I have for the Universe and then "listen" for the bracelet that spoke to me.  I purchased one with earthy-colored stones, many shaped like half-moons, and a metal bead with an 8 on it, which the woman said was the symbol of prosperity.  It seemed apropos since my request, unspoken and therefore unknown to the  bracelet creator, was for the financial prosperity I need to create a new home and life in Mount Dora.  She put the bracelet on my wrist and told me to wear it 24/7 until it released itself from me.  When that happens, she said, you will know that you no longer need the bracelet.  In spite of being unsure what that meant, I walked away contented with my pretty, unusual bracelet.  I wore it every moment since, until yesterday.  Shortly after arriving at the beach retreat, I was in the bathroom changing into some cooler clothing when my left wrist hit against a towel rack.  It was not a hard hit, but it obviously was enough for my bracelet to "release itself from me".  I watched sadly as the lovely earthy-hued beads dropped to the floor, bouncing and rolling in all directions.  My pretty bracelet was gone.  What did that mean to me?  Do I believe that the bracelet could fulfill a wish?  Does the loss of it mean my wish has been fulfilled?
 
Physical evidence at this time says that I have not achieved the financial prosperity to, as I like to say, Manifest Mount Dora, but perhaps I am on the road, or it will occur soon or maybe I have learned an important lesson that will lead toward that goal.  I am not sure.  I can't help but feel that the releasing of the bracelet during this retreat weekend has some sort of significance.  I look at my left wrist and it seems bare without my unique bracelet and even replacing it with one of the many other bracelets I own seems inadequate. And, yet, I also have a feeling of acceptance that it was time for the bracelet to be released or to release me.  This may all seem so silly, like childish wishful thinking, but yet it feels very strongly significant to me.  I have no idea if the bracelet had any power or any lessons to teach or if I am just projecting more importance to a piece of jewelry than it could possibly have.  But, I do know that, although I miss it,  I feel a sense of completion without it.  After almost five months of wearing the bracelet, I have no answers;  I have only more questions.  But, if this journey of Manifesting Mount Dora has taught me anything, its that progress is only made when we ask questions.  Questions spur the seeking that creates the journey.  I often looked at my bracelet and considered financial prosperity, what that meant to me and what fears I have surrounding that idea.  Maybe the job of the bracelet was to encourage the questions that lead to the seeking that leads to the answers.  Maybe those questions are what led me to this weekend retreat and maybe that is why the bracelet was released or released me.