It pays to be depressed

I must look down a lot while walking because I find coins.

Or rather they find me. Or some of each. I suspect it’s my eye honing in on details.

I also find loose change, mostly pennies, scattered on floors of apartments vacated by tenants, in closet corners, behind fridges, in laundry rooms. Thanks to a suprahuman thoroughness and exacting nature, I can spot the microscopic-sized rounded edge of any coin wedged beneath a baseboard..

And I’ll employ any tool I have to extract it. Don't think I haven't. I have. A pair of pliers. A spatula. The tweezers from my Swiss army knife. A wedging pry. Because I am that committed to a full cleansing of a space.

So between the street walking {ahem} and the job, a nice little cash cache builds up over time.

And found coins never go into my wallet. They go here. On Buddha

Buddha was a gift from someone who knows I’m an Asian trapped in an American body.

And when Buddha can hold no more, the coins are slid into a Ziploc bag and stored in a drawer of a beautiful old kid's dresser (a craigslist purchase with a terrific story) and a second collection is started.

And when Buddha gets full up again, all coins are gathered, sorted and rolled into their respective paper tubes that, yes, you can still get from the bank, and exchanged for bills.

Then those are put into my wallet and spent with awareness or tucked into a secret spot in my room that will remain undisclosed should anyone know where I live.

The last “haul” to the bank was $12 ($12.576 AUD) and some loose change; that prior totaled around $17 ($17.81 AUD).

That’s a lot of looking down.

Buddha’s belly's floating in coins: $5.71 ($5.98665 AUD), excluding the ¥50 piece from Japan that remains with him unchanged.

Now, see this mirror? There’s a story attached.

I was in a local New Age bookstore and on the counter near the cashier was a mirror — not this one but one similar — with a sprinking of coins.

I asked the owner what that meant. She explained that money on a mirror increases it, effectively doubling it through the reflection. I reckon any positive symbol would have the same effect.

I admired the concept (and mirror). Then she dipped behind the counter, pulled forth this one and offered it happily, saying I could return it any time. Wrapped it up in tissue paper; when I got home, I replicated what I'd learned.

When months later I went to return the mirror, the store was up and gone. Which saddened me. And left me with this mirror that I hold special. It always gets a spot on my sacred/altar space or beside Jade.

See, my depression does pay in an odd sorta way. And may double fortune be yours.

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