by Hannah Boundy, Dry Bones Board Member
I know a lot about wealth, about financial security. I co-own a wealth management firm, which means I spend my days helping people find ways to optimize their monetary resources. I have done this for more than a decade, investing heavily in degrees and designations to further my knowledge of how money works and what it can do. It’s part of why I was asked to join the Dry Bones Board of Directors. I have a unique knowledge about how philanthropic giving can be tax-advantaged and what donors consider when making large gifts. But that’s not why I joined.
When I talk with my clients these days, there is a common undercurrent of anxiety. It’s explained in different ways – inflation is inching up, groceries cost more, gas prices have skyrocketed. Some will just say that things feel bad. Navigating the current environment is too complex, too difficult. I have heard this over and over again from all kinds of individuals from all kinds of backgrounds with all kinds of levels of wealth.
I think a big part of this narrative is a result of the news we digest. Fear sells. And so the headlines are about everything that’s going wrong and because of our screens and the speed of the news cycle – we are inundated with this message. Everything is bad. There are a million reasons to feel anxious, awful, depressed, afraid. I am not immune to this. I have three young children and I often lay awake at night wondering what their future holds; what kind of world they will inherit from us.
I also blame marketing. Exorbitant sums of money have been invested in understanding the human brain and how it works. Not solely for mental health purposes, but to understand how to get people to behave a certain way – to purchase a certain thing. And all of that research has uncovered the phenomenon of the dopamine rush that comes from buying something. We’ve been conditioned to it, and it functions much like an addiction for so many of us.
It’s also become a measuring stick for how well we feel about our position in life. There’s a Yale professor who researches happiness who has found that a significant predictor of happiness is how well we perceive we are doing relative to those around us. We feel better when we feel like we are ahead. The bad news is that we are also inundated with comparison points on social media – curated stories of everyone around us who appears to be thriving, followed by an ad that promises fulfillment if we just “add to cart.” Buy now. Feel better. Get back ahead.
And it does feel better – for a moment. Until a new tab opens with a new headline or we see another photo of our friend with a brand new car and we go back to worrying that it’s not enough; that what we have might not be enough.
I grew up in a suburb of Denver, raised in the Christian faith tradition. I attended a Baptist church off of Federal and Zuni from the moment I was born until I left for college in Southern California. My entire life, I have wanted for nothing and I won’t explain away that privilege. It is simply a fact about me like the fact that I am 5 feet tall and have blue eyes. But a byproduct of that privilege is that sometimes I wonder if I belong in the Dry Bones community. If maybe I shouldn’t be there because I don’t understand what it’s like to physically want for the things necessary to exist. Maybe I don’t belong because I can’t relate. Nevertheless, I find myself drawn back to this community again and again, because there is still something I want for, something I find in these spaces that fills an ache.
While I have never known physical hunger, I know what it feels like to question my own worth and to wonder if I matter. I know what it feels like to experience deep depression and to struggle to function the way I’ve been told is proper and right. And maybe that’s part of why I’m drawn to this place, but I also think there’s a simpler explanation.
There is a prayer, at the end of the book of Proverbs in the Christian Bible known as the prayer of Agur which goes like this: “Two things I ask of you; deny them not to me before I die: Remove far from me falsehood and lying; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me, lest I be full and deny you and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God.”
Or put more simply – ‘Lord, give me enough.’
In recent years, I’ve become increasingly curious about the concept of contentment. What does it mean to be truly and deeply satisfied? What does it look like? I know it exists, because I have tasted it – in passing moments and in the stories of others. It is possible. But how is it accessed? I’m not entirely sure.
I have a theory, however, that a core element of contentment is that it’s something we choose for ourselves. I grant, there is absolutely a base level of need that we all need to have met for us to survive and ensuring that we all have that base level should be a compelling mission for all of us. There’s a reason the phrase “daily bread” mentions food – sustenance. But for some of us, myself included, we find ourselves with more – daily bread and then some. Then what?
Then I think it’s up to us, personally, to define what is enough. To draw a line in the sand of our lives and say this is what I need to be ok, to have my needs met. Not my wants, not all of them, but my needs. And beyond that, we find ourselves in the very privileged position to ask, what can I do with the extra? Where can I send it, what can I invest it in, that isn’t just a temporary dopamine hit, but something that nourishes the deepest parts of my soul – that counteracts this sense that everything is bad, when so much of creating good is up to us and our own choices.
I have hovered at the periphery of the Dry Bones community for nearly a decade now because it calls to a deep part of my heart that craves a satisfaction I can’t get from consumerism. The part of my heart that knows that the greatest thing I can do with my time and my energy is to acknowledge what my friend Cami calls “the thumbprint of the divine in others.” I believe we’re all hardwired for connection. We are all meant to see and be seen, to know and be known. And that’s what Dry Bones does – both for its friends on the street, but also for everyone that finds themselves in their midst. “You belong” they say. “You are worthy of our time and our attention.”
Part of my role with them now is to fundraise. Another fact about me. I have blond hair and I help raise money for Dry Bones. And maybe you’re already a consistent donor to us or to any other number of valuable nonprofits doing meaningful work in our communities to which I say “thank you.” Thank you for being faithful to supporting something that you hopefully value. Thank you for drawing a line in the sand and saying I have what I need and letting your overflow fill the cups of others.
If you’re not, or even if you are and time has passed and it’s now just another item on your checklist, I would love to invite you to (re)engage – not simply because we need your support to do this work, but also because maybe you need it too? Maybe what this moment calls for, in the midst of the scarcity that’s being peddled by every post and every headline, is a reminder that what is good, and true, and beautiful goes beyond stuff and account balances. What nourishes our souls, I think, are the moments that we experience connection with others; moments where we’re reminded that they matter and so do we and we are not alone amidst the chaos and complexity of being alive. Dry Bones is a sacred place for that and we’d love for you to be a part of our community.
