4 Benefits of Being Poor
Reflections from a broke millennial.
I’m already insecure about how clichéd this article sounds and I haven’t even completed the outline for the piece. Insecurity is one of the drawbacks of being a broke (and broken) millennial. Graduating college at the start of the Great Recession leaves an indelible mark on a person and creates a great rift between one’s self and any distilled sense of confidence.
However, during small moments of clarity, such as the one I held for about twenty-five minutes on my drive home today, I catch glimpses of some truths which extend beyond the misery of the experience of being poor and I’d like to talk about them.
Putting these thoughts into a Medium article rather than a personal journal entry meant for my eyes only is due, at least in part, to the fact that I haven’t hit “publish” in several months and it’s past time to send some of my meandering ideas about life into the ether once again.
Thank you for trusting me with your time and attention. I’m fairly certain that by the end of this piece you’ll come away with some less cliched ideas about what it’s like to live a simple, perpetually poor existence as an American Millennial.
Shall we begin?
There are specifically two sources that created the impetus for this article. The first, most direct, inspiration was from an interview on the Making Sense podcast by Sam Harris with comedian Ricky Gervais. It’s a relatively plain interview with a sprinkle here and there of simple profundities.
Particularly captivating, at least for me, was the story Ricky told about being in his early twenties as a poor, recent college graduate who had no job and no money while living lavishly on free activities in London.
He could have leaned hard into the anguish that comes out of the inevitable anxieties of such an existence, but instead he looked back with nostalgia on the art galleries he frequented and almost seemed to envy the simple pleasures that came out of such frugal means. Somehow, I felt more inspired to become that early version of Ricky than the uber-rich and famous comedian version he grew into.
The second source which is responsible for my moment of “poor person clarity” is from Ekhart Tolle’s book, The Power of Now. It adds up that I’m both a subscriber of Sam Harris’s Making Sense Podcast, I meditate through his Waking Up App, and I’m reading a book on spiritual enlightenment. It’s all one big cliché, man. But…hey, if I catch even a couple moments of real peace and appreciation during my short existence in this tiny body, I’ll count myself #blessed for that.
We all need to find ways and means of breathing a little bit easier amidst the onslaught of guilt and shame that comes out of not being “successful” enough. This pursuit is fast becoming the new American Dream and I, for one, am here for it.
Ricky, and the 50 pages I’ve read so far on spiritual enlightenment, helped me unveil the following four benefits of being poor as true gifts in my life: libraries, coffee shops, writing, and running. I hope these four things inspire you and that you’ll come to find them as treasures in your own life, no matter your income level.
1. Public Libraries
My fondness of libraries extends far beyond my inspirational, twenty-five minute drive home. My main entrance to the world of public libraries was as a wee tike. My mother would take me to our local library where there was a retired row boat planted in the center of the children’s section, stuffed full of pillows, cozy nooks, and quiet magic.
I spent a significant amount of time in my college town’s public library during Undergrad where I was tasked with finding treasures in Children’s Literature for my lesson planning. I studied Language Arts and Elementary Education.
I felt exceptional joy at the camaraderie between myself and the young readers all around me. They were just as enthralled with being there as I was at their age and the glow from this joy reminded me of the magic of that retired row boat.
I suffer greatly as a “stimulation sensitive” person who hasn’t been able to retreat to the quiet magic of my local library during the past year of the Covid quarantine. Early into the shut-down, I shared a conversation over the phone with my librarian and we both agreed that this part of shutting down society was by far the most gut-wrenching.
Being poor is, most certainly, the culprit for drawing me into the doors of local libraries as an adult. I much prefer reading and writing inside the confines of my abode but as a poor person, it’s been damn-near impossible to afford a living space all to myself without roommates. Consequently, I have perpetually been left to venture out into the wide world in search of that quiet magic.
We will never be a society capable of healing and growing if we cut out public libraries. My recipe for being an upstanding citizen is to vote in your local elections and support your local library by 1.validating its existence and 2.checking out some books.
So, get to it. Your library may not be open for meandering during the Covid shutdown but you, most definitely, can still check out books.
2. Coffee Shops
Having vices as a poor person is mostly coupled with drawbacks but one of the vices that has always held steady, no matter how shoe string my budget, is a daily cup of that sweet brown, warm, liquid gold. It may be extravagant but on the days when I’m indulgent, it’s true bliss to get to experience my daily cup inside a proper coffee establishment.
The sound of steam from the espresso machine, clanking dishes, and grinding coffee are a melodic symphony to my sensory-sensitive existence. Although I’ve never received a proper diagnosis of stimulation sensitivity, I am 34 years old and I know enough about my idiosyncrasies to see that I’m not so “normal” when it comes to sensory experience. What I know even more than this, however, is that “normal,” thank god, is not sexy.
If you’re single and hoping to find a fellow weirdo in the world, support your local, independent coffee shop. Bring your library book and kick up your heels. You never know who you might fall in love with.
I’ve dreamed up a myriad of business schemes on how to make money from visiting coffee shop treasures around the world. Until that happens, I cherish spending my milk money on a professionally produced cup of coffee as often as possible.
3. Writing
Being uniquely poor as a flailing college graduate, a millennial, and a properly self-diagnosed weirdo are the elements which are responsible for making up the four topics of this article.
To assuage my guilt of being unemployed, regardless of the state of the economy, I do my best to strike an appropriate balance between my consuming and producing selves. Somehow, if I am able to achieve it, this balance makes me feel like I am still relevant in a world of wasted potential.
My writing is not anything special, at least, not yet. Regardless, writing, as it were, is an appropriate poor person activity because, well, it’s free, and, if one sticks with it through the down times, holds potential for being a money-making endeavor.
Much truer, however, is that writing makes it onto this list because I know there is no other thing I can produce in this world that will leave me with the same sense of satisfaction, regardless of my “success” level.
To write is to be intimate with the world.
Putting thoughts in permanent penned form, wrestling with their order, relevance, and transcription, deleting them, reforming them, refining them, and then sharing them publicly is a painful, profound, incredible privilege.
I have a hunch, though it’s certainly not the only formula, that people who are poor or, most preferably, were poor at one point in their lives, appreciate the act of writing the most.
Being poor, unequivocally, means to struggle. Being uncertain about one’s source of income, one’s sense of foundation, including, but not limited to, food and shelter, creates an unparalleled anxiety.
If, however, you were given the expressed privilege of learning to read and to write, you will never have to suffer the depths of this anguish because being a reader and, more specifically, a writer, no mater your mastery of either, means you are not suffering alone. You are always in communication with the world.
You are, always, connected.
Writing is one of the greatest gifts of my story here on this planet and you are the reason for that. Thank you for connecting with me. ❤
4. Running
I started running one day in High School out of boredom. As fate would have it, my school’s cross country coach was out for his afternoon jog, ran up to me and invited me to join the team, right on the spot. Luckily for me, we were no reigning champions or division one team. Most certainly, he would have kept running if that were the case.
I was, and remain to this day, an incredibly slow-burn distance runner. In short, I am, have always been, and likely always will be a terrible runner. But, much more importantly, I do it anyway. Not unlike writing, which, admittedly, I’m only marginally better at, running gives me an incredible sense of relevance in this world. After a good run, I feel a sense of accomplishment. I feel as if I’ve earned my place here on this planet. I feel connected.
In back-country skiing there is this phrase called “earn your turns,” which basically means you hiked your skinny ass up the mountain rather than lazily sat on the lift and rode to the top. When I run I feel like I “earned my oxygen.”
We all exist on the coattails of the respiration cycle and never really feel much gratitude for it. Throw on some running shoes, however, and that huffing and puffing will become a stark reminder of just how precious the process of breathing really is.
Running isn’t a totally “free” activity, what with the necessity of semi-regular shoe purchases an all, but as a recovering adrenaline sports addict, it is much less costly than expensive rock-climbing gym memberships (or moving around the country in order to climb outside), and ski equipment.
I have immense gratitude that life has given me the gift of these other sports and the adventures they accompany, but they pale in comparison to the steady, true love of running, regardless of how “successful” I may be at it.
If you found this article inspired you to pay attention to the simple (and mostly free) pleasures in your life, then I have succeeded.
Thank you so much for reading this whole article.
You inspire me to keep going.
Thank you also for choosing to pursue feeling good inside of your own skin today. If you’d like help in this work, please reach out to my dear friend and amazing coach, Mandy Bishop. She is a nature-integrated trauma coach and has truly helped change my life.
Love yourself first.
In love, light, and gratitude,
Lydia Catherine
