My friend Amy Martin has a website; amymartin.org. On it the other day she responded to a long time admirer who was commending her for her success on raising funds thru crowdsourcing etc. Staright Talk About Funding was the name of the post.
Tho I can’t agree on some of the ways Amy gets some of her funding – flat out asking for it, hell, I never know where I’m gonna be tomorrow, and I could ask you to fund a certain thing, you might, and then life would throw me another curve ball and I’d be off and running in some other direction after some other pretty shiny object…artists…meh!
I do have a consistent source of income; my intimate 60 or so subscribers to a Garden/Farming/Off Grid Living newsletter Earth Nurture $15. per year, 4 quarterly issues, I have self published for 18 years now. Even this last issue, it was finished, sitting in the laptop, ready, and I could not afford to print and mail it to those who had subscribed and finally figured how to email it as a pdf file to half of them…hand delivered to another handful. Their subscription monies already spent on gasoline or Verizon…
This is primarily the method I use to fund my bare bones operations – whining about it. BLESS the supporters who throw in $5 or $10 extra to espouse the brand of what I’m layin’ down; whatever it be: Lavender, gardening, the written word. Without them, I would be nothing.
Anyway, Amy goes on to say how she’s always living on the edge but constantly re-inventing herself, and always giving what she’s got, because its her life mission, it’s just what you do, man. And it got me to thinking about my own edge, my own reinvention…
You’ll have to read her post to get the nuances, but this was my reply to how she answered this admirer. She wrote me back, saying that my answer was a beautiful poem. But it just is what it is. Being as how April is National Poetry Month, I’ll put it for you here.
I, too, am always grateful;
For buskers (one of the favorite places I see Amy, busking with Caroline and Shell on Higgins Ave sultry summer nights)
For the extra dollars folded back up in my hand by the customer when I try to give them change,
For an up-cycled topper on my truck that on more than one occasion has provided sleeping quarters,
Grateful I didn’t ever quite need to throw out a bedroll on the banks of the Clark fork under a bridge,
For a generous and supportive community,
And a selfless and encouraging new man,
And for the opportunity to give of myself.