How often do you think about money?

Not just the budgeting, balancing, or worrying about it, but as an idea? A topic for reflection? I'm fascinated by money as a subject. There are countless books on its philosophy, psychology and morality, resources that teach financial literacy or inspire the pursuit of financial freedom. There are great books and podcasts that illuminate the patterns and lessons of finance from its origins in ancient Mesopotamia to present day market economies. What interests me most though, isn't the accumulating or spending of money, it's what our relationship with it says about us.

Money is a fundamental resource. A commodity or tool that we use to get what we need to survive, now and in the future. We can’t do without it, most of us would like more of it.  And, it is something else too. I think about it in a similar way to food. There are key components within it that we need to live, the energy and nutrients. Yet there are all kinds of customs, routines, beliefs, feelings about food, whole industries related to diets, cooking, dining and ‘food’ culture that goes far beyond nutrition and energy. When I think about money, I’m less interested in the basic components of it and more in themes connected to it, what it reflects, the things we value, the things we fear, the things we're reaching for. What do we think we are gaining or preventing when we have more of this resource?

What we spend money on, what we don’t or won't spend it on, what makes us anxious about it and what excites us about it, what we dream of doing with it aren't random tensions. They tell us something about what we're seeking, what we find meaningful and valuable. In this way, our relationship with money can become a kind of mirror that shows us what we value in our lives.

Money can’t buy us happiness, but it certainly helps

I spent years buying happiness, living by this cliché without really examining it. I had a demanding job that didn't fulfil me. It was challenging, sometimes interesting and I liked my colleagues, but I didn't feel like my work contributed to anything that mattered to me personally. What appealed to me mostly was the substantial salary. And with that salary, I not only met my needs, I spent. I got pleasure from spending. I rewarded myself after a hard day, whether that was purchasing something new, spending without hesitation on drinks and dinners with friends, or booking holidays. It felt good, it felt fun, and it felt like freedom, something I didn't feel at all during working hours.

Then my circumstances changed. Much less money. Zero opportunity for unplanned spending. I not only expected to miss it, I expected financial frugality to feel utterly miserable. Much to my surprise, it didn't. Several other things happened instead. When my work became purposeful, when I enjoyed more of it, when I found opportunities to learn and develop in line with my skills, abilities and interests, this itself was rewarding. The wish to reward myself through spending largely evaporated. The sense of dissatisfaction that had been driving my impulse to spend, that need for a hit of pleasure to counteract the flatness of the days, was also just gone. Another strange change occurred for me, having less money created a greater sense of satisfaction in saving. There was something in being resourceful, in having fewer options and making things work within constraints. I found an alternative kind of freedom one that came not from unlimited options, but from commitment. Choosing one thing and putting focused energy there. There were lots of freedoms my ease of spending provided, but it limited me in other ways, emotionally, creatively, intellectually, that I wasn’t consciously aware of.

My change in financial situation was the catalyst for a change in my relationship with both money and meaning, it made me aware of a balance I hadn’t considered before. It was an extreme shift in some ways, but there are countless opportunities to reflect on and shift that relationship in smaller, no less significant ways.

The cost of labour

Work and money are a good in-road to thinking about the value and importance we place on things. Cleaning or housework is a labour I regularly hear about that creates tensions. A couple of my married friends always budget for a cleaner. When they first lived together, cleaning was a source of regular arguments. To one of them, a clean home creates a sense of sanctuary, order and calm. They preferred to clean as they went during the week, so when the weekend came they could wake up feeling at peace. Their partner found a sense of sanctuary differently. They enjoyed feeling unhurried, doing things in their own time, especially in their own home. The partner didn't want to clean during the week when everything felt busy and preferred to do this at the weekend when they had more time. The argument wasn't really about cleaning; it was about two different sets of values and preferences that couldn't be rationally resolved. Paying for a cleaner simply bypassed this. It didn't only maintain a clean home, it gave quality time and harmony back to both of them.

Another friend could easily hire a cleaner but chooses not to. Not to save money or because they particularly enjoy cleaning but because they have a demanding job. It’s full of uncertainty where projects are open-ended and they rarely encounter the same task twice. Small daily chores give them a to-do list they can reliably complete. It’s a way of facilitating a sense of accomplishment, that positive feeling we get from ‘goal completion’ (goal completion provides such a reliable dopamine response, it’s a concept built into social media apps, gambling and gaming that keeps us hooked). A feeling that's harder to come by in their job. The cleaning also gives my friend a sense of control over their environment that’s important to them. It’s a way of creating different modes and rhythms that help define the boundary between work life and personal life. Paying for a cleaner would take that away.

Shopping is my cardio

Our relationship with shopping can be another revealing way to reflect what we value. Some people go to the shops with a list; the point is to buy what's on it and leave. They aren't distracted by offers or tempted by things they didn't plan to purchase. Shopping is a task: find the items on the list, pay, leave. For others however, at first glance shopping might appear to be a task of acquiring the necessary items, but it’s also an experience.

Research suggests the ‘experience’ of shopping taps into something older, akin to hunter-gatherer instincts. The thrill of the search, the flexibility of the hunt, the reward of a find. We’d have needed motivation and a sense of anticipation and high reward to gather food and other resources in scarce environments, and something of that wiring persists. Shopping addictions tend to be about the verb rather than the accumulation of items. The anticipation, the novelty, the stimulating environment, the pleasure of something desirable wrapped up at the till, recalling our experience with others later. Marketing and advertising exist to make this experience as compelling as possible. I’ve encountered some creative workarounds people have found that preserve that hunter-gather experience without the price tag. Some people are part of actual, organised foraging groups, learning, being outside, having a shared activity as a means to socialise (sometimes called shoulder to shoulder socialising). Others limit their recreational shopping experience to charity or thrift shops. And there’s the trend ‘shopping your wardrobe’ where people actively sort through and select combinations of clothes they already own but rarely wear.

Hot topics

Interestingly, concerns over mass consumption and harms to the environment more than exploring our relationship with money seem to be driving these alternative ‘shopping’ experiences. What we value with our time, attention or money says something about each of us uniquely and collectively. Maybe the mirror that money can hold up isn't always comfortable to look into. Or maybe it’s that we’re just not encouraged to. But looking, bringing our conscious awareness to our values gives us clarity and choice in how we interact with them.

Money is an essential commodity with tangible gains and limitations. And it is a mirror. It reflects needs that can be met, or may be better met, through other methods. When we examine what we're actually seeking through our money choices, we often find we have more options than we thought. Some of what we were looking for was always available. We just hadn’t noticed, hadn’t seen before or had been distracted from these options.  

Perhaps the most interesting thing about money isn't what we do with it. It's what it does with us, and therefore what we can learn about us, if we're willing to look.