Yesterday I had to write a check to pay taxes here in the USA.
I didn’t like it.
At least that’s what one voice was shouting in the corner.
Like a crazy Gollum character…..
“Noooooo! Don’t write that check! OMG she’s doing it! Help! This is a disaster! Someone stop her!!”
The check was accompanying my first ever “extension” form to the IRS.
As in, the first time I was not able to complete my taxes successfully by the April 15th deadline.
I’m turning everything in, for the first time, to an accounting firm.
I’ve always done all my taxes by myself. With Turbo Tax online for the past decade, and on paper before that.
I also generally worked for other companies, or had one side part-time business that didn’t make much extra money, or usually LOST money after expenses.
But now, I work for myself full time.
And I’ve done better and better and gotten completely out of debt and have hours and hours of experience working with groups and people and making my work more refined and more productive and farther reaching and of greater benefit to people.
Forever expanding. So far. For now.
But then….taxes! ARGHHHHGGHHHG!
Those greedy bas*&$*s!!
(Picture a bunch of official government-looking people drinking coffee in offices, waiting for my check).
I had to laugh….finding myself with such thoughts.
Because I have no idea what or who the receivers of the tax checks look like, and I’ve agreed by living here in this country to pay the government a percentage of my earnings.
As The Work worked me (I didn’t even write anything down on paper, yet) I noticed walking to the store that I had the thought….
….I appreciate this road.
Roads are built with taxes.
I appreciate the sidewalk, the traffic lights, the electricity running overhead. I appreciate the bridge, the fire station and the city hall right across the street. Those were all built starting with taxes.
I suddenly remembered one of my first bosses, a long time ago.
He was a small business owner with five employees, and used to be the head of a huge corporation’s Operations department. This was his second year out on his own as a private consultant. He was an expert at what he did, and I worked for him as a general administrative assistant.
I remember helping him gather tax documentation together.
With a fine toothed comb, he wanted to go through every transaction that was international and make sure it was put on a separate list so it was not included in taxes. He would have called them the same name I was saying in my own head.
I remember all those years ago thinking “what a cheapskate, jeez!”
No more separation from him. I joined with him, 30 years later from the future (which is now) with understanding and compassion.
The urge to want to keep, hoard, protect and never lose anything is weird but not uncommon…..
…..especially with MONEY!
I notice I can make a big fat story out of it being better to keep andworse to give away and not have.
Who would I be without that story?
Almost giddy, really.
Its a joyful lack of fear, and excited willingness and eagerness to give, to offer, to allow money to come and go and depart and return.
Like sitting near a river watching it flow on by, not trying to do anything about it, not trying to save it up or go find containers to put it in, or build a dam, or drink lots of water right now because there won’t be any later.
None of that is on my mind next to the river.
I listen, I relax, I’m still.
Having fun paying taxes.
“Enlightenment can be measured by how compassionately and wisely you interact with others–with all others, not just those who support you in the way that you want. How you interact with those who do not support you shows how enlightened you really are.” ~ Adyashanti
It dawned on me in this act of writing a check I felt uncomfortable writing that I was treating the tax payment itself, money, the people at the IRS, the government, and myself….
….all without compassion.
So I stopped.
Much love, Grace