I am a billionaire.
You can be, too.
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What is air?
I searched for pictures of “billionaire” on Unsplash and the results unsurprisingly revealed mansions, fast cars, men with stacks of money and city skylines.
I couldn’t locate any pictures of air. Nor did I discover a bill from Nature saying, You owe me for years and years of air, food, shelter and water.
I’m a billionaire.
What is breath? Sleep? Safety? Health?
Paul McKenna and other hypnotists have posited the question: If you are a billionaire and raging insomniac, are you rich? If you live in a 20,000 sq ft mansion yet fear invasions, are you rich? If you have no one you can trust and dislike people, are you rich? If you are a billionaire but chronically ill or mistreat your body, are you rich?
I’m a billionaire.
What is the Creative Force of the Ages?
I’m nearly finished with proofs and final tweaks of my newest book, I Was Once A Person. It’s a work of fiction — not a genre I usually write. I’m known as a memoirist / essayist but decided to take up the challenge of writing a novel. Why not? I have nothing to lose. I loved the pleasure of building it scene by scene — though at times it felt like following a deer trail in the woods — loved my quirky characters who emerged when they trusted that I wasn’t going to give up on their story. Alexandra Bellenridge — Xandra — my beloved and complex main character, has been my primary relationship for two years and I’m a little sad to see her go.
Yet stories are meant to be shared — and every artist has to say goodbye to their creation.
There will always be another story, another scene, another way to reveal the mystery in every lifetime and every personality.
I’m a billionaire.
What is fullness? Freedom and stability?
I lift a cup of amazing coffee to my lips made with fresh spring water — black and slightly bitter, just how I prefer it. There’s more in the pot, waiting on pretty Mexican tiles. My stomach is full from warm baked oatmeal, topped with almond milk and cinnamon baked pears, all homemade. My hair dries in the sun after an on-demand hot shower on a chilly morning and I stand on a Shakti mat and write this, feeling the heat of a gas fireplace. Clothes tumble in the dryer, clean and fresh and a beautiful day awaits to do with what I please.
It’s my choice. Always my choice. Appreciate, stress out, feel calm or be restless — enjoying the wild ride of an emotional human. It’s still an adventure to be here — and I want more. More adventure. More goofy fun. More beauty and pleasure.
I’m a billionaire.