Busted. Broke. Penniless. Poor. Pauper. Hobo.

All relative ~ as in compared to what and to whom and to where in the world one lives. Certainly being poor as in claiming to be financially broke takes on different meaning if one literally does not have two coins to rub together, say in Mumbai than in the rural southern United States. Ghettos differ vastly from country to country. A hovel on one continent would seem almost palatial in another metropolis half a globe spin away.

Eating ramen noodles as a daily diet sounds sustainable compared to eating a spoonful or two of dirt or even mixing water and ketchup to make tomato soup or red pasta sauce. Escargot a delicacy in a fancy upscale restaurant or just eating snails in a driftwood abode.

And then there is being spiritually and/or morally bankrupt, which puts an entirely depressed spin on the whole mix. Because to be morally bankrupt means that nothing in the big wide universe could appease or satisfy the chasm of emptiness within.

So here I am today, pondering what poor means to me, to others, and wondering why being financially broke seems harder to bear in the winter. Maybe because of the darkness. Perhaps due to the frigid clime. Either way, the wondering is food for thought and food today is a good thing.

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