Be Abundant Like Water
I'm inspired by the nature of mother nature. For example, a forest perpetuates itself naturally. As the seasons change the very essence of the tree knows to shed what is no longer sustainable -- acorns if you're an oak tree. The acorn forms and then lets go of the branch at the perfect time, as the wind moves it to it's resting place. The soil, fortified by the elements of sun and rain and snow nurtures the acorn until it grows into a sapling, which becomes a tree.
Effortlessly. Without agonizing over how it will happen. No angst at all. It simply does what its nature tells it to do.
More and more, I want to be like a tree.
Or a river, which flows naturally over rocks and branches, slower or faster depending on the force and design of the river banks. There may be some man-made damming happening to control the flow, but even then -- the water effortlessly navigates the obstacles it encounters.
I want to be like water.
The best example of abundance lies in the underpinnings of mother nature. Imagine the river thinking "Those PEOPLE. Ruining my flow just so they can keep their homes. Building dams just so they can control me." The river would never say that. It would simply flow.
Humans tend to use their brains in ways that aren't productive. I can dream up a fear over just about anything -- and for years, money was my fear of choice. What if I run out? What if I have too much and spend it in unhealthy ways? What if I make more than my friends and family and they shun me? What if I lose my home, my safety, my job, my inspiration to create?
What would my relationship with financial abundance look like if I were a river?
I would trust in the flow. I would continue to expect to flow in spite of obstacles. I would depend on my innate well being to inform me. I would feel supported by everything that is -- without arguing with reality. I would lean into Source to have the answers I think I need to have myself (or my ego thinks I need.)
Abundance flows when I allow it, and it shows up in every single area of my life when I'm present enough to acknowledge it. It's there in my morning love-text from my husband. It's in the kiss, on the top of my head, my mom gives me sometimes. It's in the song of the Robin in my backyard returning from a long winter.
It's everywhere when I let go of the idea that I need to somehow control it.