I often face conflict with myself and scheduling.

Often I arrive just in time for performances—out of breath, heart racing, adrenalin flowing—and then relish my sense of victory…we made it! No matter how mediocre the play or show or concert, I’ll remember crossing the finish line before an usher might say, “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to seat you after intermission.”

But recently, I’ve been noticing the connection between this behavior and my old style of accumulating money: for years, I was so focused on achieving a million dollar net worth that I never noticed my energy was all about striving and adrenalin, not about what I’d actually do with the money once I had it.

Flash forward to a recent Saturday.

I was commanding my minivan, filled with three adults and five kids, en route to Cirque du Soleil, and I had vowed to allow plenty of time to arrive at a sold-out event as expensive as this one.

The show began at 4pm, and just as planned, we arrived at 3pm with plenty of time to find parking. That’s when my money monster spoke up: Hey—if you have enough time to avoid the overpriced, designated parking and find off-site parking, why not go for it? Plus, you’ll avoid the crowd of exiting cars when the show is over…

I steered the minivan out of the designated Cirque parking and toward a city garage. The first garage we pulled into wasn’t open to the public, and the attendant directed us further down the street. We entered the next garage, got our ticket and parked. The eight of us walked down to the ground floor—only to discover a chain link fence blocking the entrance. After unsuccessfully trying different floors and wondering why the cashier’s office was closed, we saw the sign: Garage open Monday-Friday only.

A wave of panic flooded us adults, and then the kids got it – we’re trapped. We called the posted emergency phone number and were told to exit through an emergency pedestrian door. They would send someone out after the show to open the gate—the charge for this service was $100.00.

We raced to the theater and arrived at 3:55.

During the show, all I could think about was finding away to not pay their $100 retrieval fee. Then I noticed that the fear and anger around this fee were absorbing my attention much more than the performance I paid so much to attend.

So I did the opposite of my habitual reaction; instead of ignoring my feelings, I opened to the anger and fear. And what do you know, they were all familiar! I know this variety of anger and fear very well, because it’s been with me since I was five years old. I did a few money breaths, and my first insight occurred: I don’t know what will happen with the car after the show, but right now, I’m at the show, and I need to just watch it. I instantly felt my heartburn dissolve. My second insight was this: my anger and fear have nothing to do with the actual garage and everything to do with berating myself for being someone who parked in a closed garaged.

Then I had yet another insight: maybe the machine malfunctioned and should never have let me in. In other words, maybe it wasn’t my fault, or anybody else’s fault, either.

And just like that, I was suddenly free to enjoy the show. I still had the possibility of losing $100, but I felt full of life. When the show ended, I was determined to find someone leaving the garage, and I did, so I even got to park for free.

Later, I called the garage owner again and told her I got out. She said, “I’m glad, because the machine malfunctioned. It never should have let you in.”

Learn more about Cirque :

When my wife and I started dating, we shared our sex histories with one another on the first date. But we did not have a serious money conversation until we’d been together for almost three years-and then only when a specific concern made it absolutely necessary. The subject of money between us was taboo.

Bernhard Lietaer, author of On Human Wealth: The Future of Money, speaks to the money taboo: “If I asked you how much money you have and where it came from, it’s actually more indiscreet today than asking with whom you slept last night.” Further, he states, “Most people have about as much perspective on money as fish have on water.” Fish are born in water, live, and die in water. They don’t step out of it to look at what water is. Likewise, our beliefs about money are unexamined-until, that is, we look past the money taboo.

As my teaching partner, Anne Watts, points out:

Beliefs about money fill all our heads. We all have them. They can be fed by major experiences or by simple messages we’ve picked up along the way. These translate into limiting beliefs like: money is the root of all evil; don’t trust people with money; money equals safety; it takes money to make money. The list goes on and on. These beliefs remain unexamined until we are startled awake, often by our own discomfort, and we begin to see just what it is we are living in-those subconscious thought streams about money we swim around in all day.

It doesn’t take an extreme circumstance to be startled awake. A little bit of discomfort can go a long way, as it did the day my wife and I first saw the house that we eventually purchased together. Glowing with excitement when she saw the backyard, Janine said, “Plenty of space to put in a garden.” I could tell by her tone and the look in her eye that she was imagining a full-blown permaculture installation, complete with pond and multiple tiers. All I could see was a pile of invoices.

I looked away, secretly hoping the garden idea would decompose. Mustn’t let on that we can afford it, went my thinking, she might insist on having it.

At that stage in our relationship, all of our financial information was my secret. In my family of origin, the primary messages about money included: “Don’t talk about it,” and, “Money is the only thing that will give you security.” In the absence of clear and conscious money talk, those undercurrents translated into thought patterns that held my own sense of prosperity in check. In essence, I believed that my job as the head of the household was to watch the purse strings and silently monitor my wife’s spending to keep us secure.

Something about the juxtaposition of Janine’s obvious pleasure at the idea of a garden and my obvious distress in the moment triggered a new awareness. Janine delighted at the thought of working the soil, picking out and planting seeds, watching those little cotyledons send the plant’s first two tender green leaves up through the earth and then grow into broccoli, asparagus, collard greens, and beets. She wanted the pleasure of plucking our dinner salad straight out of the yard. She was giggling with delight at the thought, while I, on the other hand, looked and felt like quite the curmudgeon. What was that all about?

I began to examine my resistance and looked at what was behind the “mustn’t let on” thought stream. Was it true that one shouldn’t spend money on a garden? I felt into the feelings, and asked myself: is this a new feeling, or a familiar old feeling?

I knew from the work I had done with Anne and the Human Awareness Institute-an organization dedicated to eradicating ignorance and fear in the areas of love, intimacy and sexuality-as well as earlier training in meditation, that I could dive beneath the surface of my thoughts and gain valuable perspective if I paused for a few moments. This self-reflection and inquiry process is one of the skill sets Anne and I teach in our workshop: Financial Intimacy and Freedom for Couples.

I knew from experience that shifting my beliefs could radically alter my experience, and I wanted a radical new me to step in for the curmudgeon that particular afternoon. But I also knew that simply denying my feelings or sweeping them under the sod would not do. So I took a slow stroll around the side of the house and stayed with the feelings. What does this feeling want me to know? I scanned my body, relaxed my mind and allowed my awareness to do a full sweep. Almost immediately, a memory of my father came into my mind’s eye and I watched him flinch when the eight-year old me asked, “How much money do you make, Dad?” He flashed me a look of disdain that nipped that conversation in the bud-for good.

Once I connected the dots between these early experiences that told me to stay silent about finances and my difficult feelings, I was able to take a deep breath and relax. Immediately, a sense of spaciousness filled my mind. All of a sudden, I was much less attached to my original idea about the garden. From this place of openness I began to look into my present-moment thoughts and feelings. A garden can increase the value of one’s home, came the first thought. That was predictable; my mind is ever watchful when it comes to the bottom line. Then, following on that, I realized that a garden could be quite a lovely sanctuary, a place of beauty, a place to enjoy the textures and smells of seasonal change, a source of high-quality fruits and vegetables for our family.

My thinking expanded further as I imagined throwing a party in our backyard, hosting community events, having a place to explore the natural world with my kids, and being able to appreciate the ordinary miracles of peach and almond blossoms. It would be lovely to meditate out in the garden, I thought. Walking back toward my wife, I said, “Actually, Janine, we can afford a garden.” The garden has become all of the above and much, much more; it is the best investment I have ever made.

Whenever I tell this story, Anne likes to mention another important aspect of partnership and intimacy:

This experience with the garden highlights the way in which two people’s differing values can either create friction between them, or, if handled consciously, open new possibilities for each while solidifying the couple’s bond. Spencer grew up in the city where there were no gardens; they were simply not important to him. It had not occurred to him that a garden could add to the quality of his life. In relationships, distinct individual values such as gardening can become shared values for the couple, and thus expand each person’s horizons.

In the workshop Anne and I teach together, we start by posing this question: What is the best way to deepen intimacy with your partner?

Most people, especially Californians, will answer: Talk about ecstatic lovemaking!

No, we assert. Talk about money.

Some say: Insane! Talk about money to increase intimacy?

Of course, we realize that what we are suggesting is counter-intuitive. After all, money is the number one identified cause of divorce in the U.S. And yet, from my experience as both a workshop leader and financial advisor, money-talk is the greatest aphrodisiac of all. Think about it. If you can be open, honest, and fully present with your lover while talking about such a taboo topic, what might you discover?