When I started the Dirty money blog, I didn't have a money shrine.  I didn't work any money magic, because it all seemed self-referential spellwork to make more money.  I didn't give much away, and I knew nothing of the mystery of the rubber duckie.

More than a year later,my relationship with money has grown.  A lot of that comes from a really excellent money class given by Galina Krasskova, which reawakened the animist in me and helped me connect with money on a spiritual level, while simultaneously reinforcing the rules of how money acts, and how people act around it.  I don't know if she will ever give that class again, but if she does, jump on it, because the information is enough to transform that money relationship.  This is one of those cases where the money spent will return to you many times.

I'm not going to say that my net worth is larger than it was last year, but it's much more in balance with my self-worth.  I don't have gnawing fear nor hungry ambition driving me to acquire more money for its own sake, nor do I avoid making more money because I think it's, well, dirty.  For me, dirt speaks of earth, and earth is nor more or less sacred than any element.  Money goes wrong when it's allowed to stagnate:  it only has any value when it's spent.

One thing that really surprised me was my money jar.  That's the offering jar I keep in my shrine, where I put money when some good fortune befalls me, like not hitting a deer with my car or finding my phone before I put it in the wash.  (Family members and visitors also contribute, but I don't know what prompts them to do so.)  Each year, the money goes to someone who needs it.  I took it from a Christmas tradition that suggested anonymity, which in itself stems from the Jewish concept of charity, and I made sure it went to a family I did not know last year.  This time around, I struggled with finding the right person, and then when he walked through my door I was just about knocked over by the clear message that he was the recipient.  Not at all anonymous, this friend has worked to transform himself, and clearly this jar was going to help in some way, so I made sure it went home with him.

In return, he promised to start a money jar tradition in his own home.  I like the idea so much, I will suggest it to every future recipient, whether I know who they are or not.

What I wasn't expecting was the emphasis I gave to the Pagan savings challenge.  Weekly posting is really tough at times, but I think the regular reminders about this grand spell were helpful in keeping me accountable, whether or not anyone else benefited from them.  I suspect that I could provide weekly savings reminders via email to people who wanted to subscribe to a service like that.  While the challenge itself was rewarding, I won't be repeating it this year.  I need to regroup and recalibrate how money flows through my life, and then figure out how to save again the year after that.

Sadly, my future musings on money will not be at PaganSquare.  By offering me this opportunity, Anne Newkirk Niven allowed me to get my first serious Pagan audience for my writing, but now my life is such that I have to give something up.  This past autumn I took upon myself another weekly obligation, writing for The Wild Hunt, and there is little time in my week to manage my personal, sacred, and professional obligations.  The audience at that site demands a level of knowledge and quality which stretches my craft in any number of uncomfortable ways, for which I am grateful, although it's always tough to let one thing go in order to allow a new thing to grow.

I hope to continue to explore the intersection of Paganism and money at my personal blog, and I invite Anne to keep these posts up for as long as she'd like.