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When money becomes love

When money becomes love

I’d like to share a story about a lady I once met. A very fortunate lady in fact. I met her at a supermarket while I was out and about in the city.

“Excuse me. Can I ask you a question please? What is sobrasada?” She half quizzed, half smiled. That’s when our dialogue began.

I was about to make lengths explaining what it was when she muttered in a curious dialect. “Oh never mind that, I’ve found the beetroot hummus. I’ll settle for that.”

She sounded as though she could be British so I asked her if my intuition prevailed. “West London” she told me. At first glance we appeared to have a few things in common so as one does, I continued to talk to her.

Then, one thing led to the next and before long she introduced herself as Georgina, told me about her upbringing in a poor part of London and how she’d worked as a maid in a wealthy household. With the aisle silently listening in, she also told me about her secret affair with alcohol and how she’d later found herself penniless, homeless and married to the bottle.

As I found myself struck by her glowing looks, she told me that through her final darkest hours on the streets, she’d had a mystical encounter with an angel.

“What a real angel? What did it look like?” I asked, intrigued.

She laughed hard enough to catch the attention of the shop. “He was a musician. Not with wings and a high pitched singing voice but a guitarist with long hair, goofy teeth and deep delicious tones.”

I was mystified of course so naturally asked her more about this angel.

“One afternoon I was sitting under a bridge when a man came to sit next me. He was dressed in Levi’s jeans, a pair of D&G trainers and a loose fitting cotton t-shirt. I instantly took a dislike to him and commanded that he leave. Instead he asked me if he could play some tunes and did it anyway.”

I looked around at the abundant shelves and wondered how this beautiful woman made it under the bridge in the first place but she kept me on track with the story.

“He began to play the most awful sound I ever heard. But he seemed to enjoy what he was doing and I couldn’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh until my insides burned. After that he took off his clothes and gave them to me.” She told me with an exasperated expression.

“I hated designer clothes let alone rich people so I told him to get lost.” She added.

That’s when I roared with her.

“You can’t imagine what he did” she went on. “He looked me in the face, opened his goofy mouth and said…….’I found them in the trash you sour faced lollipop stick now get up, put on the clothes and walk with love and gratitude to the next restaurant.’ I couldn’t believe it.”

Stunned, I yearned for more of her story and she continued with pleasure.

“I don’t know what came over me. I felt I was in a state of trance when I got up, changed into his clothes and walked towards the high street. I stopped when I saw the goofy man eating a focaccia at an Italian restaurant on the corner of the street. I was about to hit him across the head when I caught glimpse of a sign near the till. It said ‘staff wanted’. Before I got chance to digest the scene, a young man approached me and asked me if I’d come for a job interview. The next thing I knew I was in the kitchen cleaning dishes.”

I had so many questions for this lady but she looked at her watch and told me she had to dash, so I asked her to summarise the ending.

“When I came out of the kitchen the goofy man had gone and I never saw him again. But something told me that he’d come to guide me back into my life. I guessed he was either an angel in disguise or a mad man sent by an angel. Either way he saved my life.” She said with an air of prosperity in her tone.

“After that encounter I never judged a man for rich nor poor again. I took everyone for their real worth and with that simple mind trick, I began to get back up on my feet, make enough money for a dignified life and started making friends again.” She said, humbled.

I said goodbye to the lady, thanked her for sharing those intimate details and took myself home. I couldn’t put aside the topic of money and it’s connection to life. I supposed that money was an excellent tool to share love – love of self and love of others – and without it we would endeavor to share it anyway……just like the angelic guitarists that guided Georgina back to health.

So I felt it fitting to share a simple mantra to end the story:

MONEY IS LOVE

We wish you love and prosperity.

Anneka and Teresa