How’s Your Material Wealth?
How’s Your Material Wealth Campaign Starts Here…
How’s your material wealth, how’s your material wealth, how’s your material wealth? Not really feeling that. How’s your spiritual health? How’s your spiritual wealth? How’s your spirit? Not really feeling that either.
This is a time in my history where I find myself standing on my own two feet, my heart radiating, my third eye to the heavens above. I feel like I’m one significant quantum step forward in my spiritual journey of knowing who I am. Yet what I realised today, after a two-and-a-half to three-week wrangle with my spirit and my truth, is that the universe has been testing my degree of satisfaction, my anxiety, my discontent, with respect to how much I’ve been kidding myself otherwise.
Ironically, this came after a month of radical Buddhist teachings—daily, six days a week, for four weeks straight—immersed in devotional practice with the highest teacher in the lineage of the Sakyapa, the 42nd Sakya Trizin Rinpoche, in Kathmandu, Nepal. It was my sixth year of what was meant to be a seven-year training, now extended to eight. And so, that’s where I was spiritually.
Spiritually, I found myself upleveling beyond my wildest comprehension—an experience so unfathomable and unforeseen that it allowed me to arrive at the most spiritually intentional and accomplished place I’ve ever been, moving forward at a rapid rate.
And yet, sitting in Kathmandu, I kept drifting back to my attachments: surfing, being with loved ones, the kiss and warm hug of my partner, my kids’ laughter, their irreverence, the dogs with their absolute zest for life, always ready for a walk or a run. Those daydreams occasionally pulled me away from the very teachings I was supposed to be present for. I told myself I should be paying attention, assimilating everything. But my mind wandered home.
When I returned, those dreams became reality again. I manifested them all. But I forgot to tick the box that said, “No spam from the material universe.” The first spam I got was paradoxical: not in the form of innocuous offerings, it came through as a void of any tethering to any offers - with integrity or otherwise. I opened my calendar, where normally 10 to 20 client sessions filled the days—most through the international, fast-growing startup I work with as a Relationship Expert. But now, two-thirds to three-quarters of those blue hour-long slots were gone, replaced by vast white space.
No material wealth. No financial security. No flow of opportunities. Just void.
And in that void, the silence echoed with desperation. My spiritual health plummeted—worst in the dead hours of 3:00 to 4:30 a.m., or in the rare conversations where I revealed my truth and felt only misalignment in return. Late August, I told my mum: “I think I’m actually pretty fucked financially.” She replied, “My goodness, darling, so close to Christmas as well.” Her words carried the perspective of a materially wealthy woman fluent in the language of money, karmically rewarded in spades. Generous, yes, but for me, taking her support felt like betraying my own spiritual integrity.
Because despite my privilege—born into a white-collar, private school world—my feelings were real. Insecure. Afraid. Questioning my worth and my place in my cultural world.
Two wounds surfaced with raw clarity. First, a workforce wound: the weeping lifelong scar that says I must be productive on weekdays. With my calendar bare, I fell into the abyss of failing cultural and family expectations and replaying old traumas. Second, a scarcity wound: one I hadn’t realised I carried. Though aligned in my work, though feeling worthy, the absence of income pierced through with the thick, bloody discomfort of lack.
Confiding in my sister only deepened the sting. When I admitted to her too I was fucked, she responded from her own secure, practical lens: “This doesn’t have to be some perfect emanation of your professional wildest dreams. This is real life.” And though she meant well, my wound bled more and felt deeper than ever. Because my spirit refuses compromise. I’ve come too far to accept anything less than pure alignment. And every taste of compromise is marked with more pain that so many can’t seem to undertand.
So here I am. Fresh from a little surf in imperfect waves, yet still able to draw gratitude from the dance with nature. Out there, I realised: this is the beginning of something big. No more compromise. I’m done.
This is the beginning of the “How’s your material wealth? How’s your spiritual health?” campaign. To check in, to ask the questions, to make sure we get it right.