Finding abundance isn't so much about redefining values, although that's certainly part of it, but cultivating a different way of seeing the world. We can welcome and celebrate abundance in one area while we work and wait for it to arrive in another. In fact, that seems like a good strategy to me--a way of moving through the world that makes it seem more welcoming, less threatening.
And while we mustn't escape those responsibilities we've set for ourselves in this life, walking through a friendlier world makes the task of living one more filled with joy than saddled with burden.
It's not your job to make sure everyone is okay, to make sure no one has anything to worry about.
You are not here to do anyone's worrying for them. You hear me? You're not.
Here's all you have to do--get yourself into a patch of light, and just develop that little patch. Find things that like to grow there. Keep them warm. Keep yourself warm. That warmth is more powerful than you know. It will draw those who might need it and, even then, you still won't have to worry about them, to take care of them.
You see, light is renewable and find-able. Teach them to find their light, and just let them sit in it. Let them discover what grows, what doesn't.
You'll do far more for this world by being an example than by being a worrier. Examples find and reflect light; worriers absorb it, twist themselves in an effort to harness it, slowly drilling themselves further and further from its source.
I can't tell you how many books, teachers, classes, tonics, herbs, diets, meditations I've tried in order to find myself and my place in the world. I've been told again and again that we are born with that innate knowing, that seed containing a whole world of what we'll become, packaged with everything we could need for the journey.
I believe that. I do. But then I think I must be broken--why can't I find that stupid seed? Why won't its root just flipping grow already? Is mine defective? Or am I just a really, really bad gardener?
Or, is my seed a little weed (which actually appeals to me, no surprise), and here I am, just trying too bloody hard to cultivate it? Maybe. Or what if it's already full-grown and I'm doing what I'm supposed to?
Well. That's a possibility. But then, why aren't I happier? Freer? Lighter? I know I get that I'm in the way of all of that--believe me, I do. And I get glimpses between all the heavy-metal fencing I've put up around this poor wild garden I've...