Tuning in to Abundance
Abundance is not something we acquire—it is something we tune in to
Armed with one reusable shopping bag and a list of eight necessities, I pushed the big red cart into the store determined to stay focused. I could have been in and out in less than fifteen minutes, but before I knew it my eyes glazed over, and I found myself wandering down aisle after aisle in a trance.
I tried on fuzzy mittens, held coffee mugs, imagined new wall art, smelled candles, touched furry blankets, marveled at high-tech gadgets and admired twinkling holiday decorations. Lipstick, boots, pot holders, and a scarf were final contenders to fill both my cart and my vague longing for something more.
I snapped out of it when I heard a child stomp her feet and wail, "I want it!" I made it to the check-out line with only the items on my list and an unpleasant feeling I couldn't really name. Dissatisfaction? Anxiety? Emptiness? As much as I wanted to shake the feeling, I also wanted to understand it.
As I drove along the country roads back home, the word scarcity came to mind. In economics, scarcity describes the result of having limited resources but unlimited wants. It occurred to me that the word sounds like scare. Was I feeling fear? Did I fear all the good stuff was back at the store? Did I fear not having enough? Did I fear not being enough?
The late Wayne Dyer wrote, “Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune in to." Something we tune in to.
Looking through the windshield, I turned to nature to soothe my restless heart. A flock of blackbirds numbering in the thousands flew in a dizzying black dotted pattern across the sky. Pine trees grew on distant rolling hills as far as my eye could see. Bales and bales of hay lined a freshly-harvested field. Plump bright red berries decorated a grove of roadside trees. A herd of more than a dozen deer grazed along the gravel road to our home. Abundance.
I opened the door to our house. Its sturdy roof, walls, and windows provide us shelter. It is warm, safe, and comfortable. Abundance.
Clear, potable water flows from the kitchen sink, bathroom shower, and washing machine. Heat and air regulate the temperature. Lights come on with a flick of a switch. Abundance.
Bowls of fresh produce sit on the kitchen counter. The refrigerator is filled. Pantry shelves are lined with cans and jars. Abundance.
In the closet are multiple pairs of pants, shirts, dresses, shoes, and coats. Abundance.
The mirror reflects a healthy, happy person who is free, loved, and loving. Abundance.
The uneasy, inadequate feeling marketers expertly targeted in me was gone. I was filled with Thanksgiving and a blessed assurance that all I have is all I need.