Writing on Empty
As I type these words I am pissy and grouchy and irritable, and all around extremely uncomfortable. I just barked at my son for not charging the laptop after he used it. I just spilled coffee beans all over the counter as I was readying the pot for the morning. In the last hour I have cursed under my breath as if performing a mantra.
In the old days, (which were not that long ago) I’d just pour myself a three-finger scotch on the rocks, which would certainly lead to a few more. Or perhaps I’d watch television, or give it up and go to bed early, hoping desperately to feel “better” in the morning.
Tonight I am trying something different; I am going to write about it, and my experience of Scarcity and Abundance.
When I was mulling it over a few days ago, I expected to write this piece from the perspective of abundance; I planned to share some positive thoughts and some encouraging words. I planned to be all upbeat and bouncy!
Instead, I find myself neck-deep in Scarcity. And it stinks.
Things are not okay in my head right now. I am feeling short on time, money, joy, peace, even food and drink.
I wish it was tomorrow, or yesterday, or last year, or next Saturday. Anywhen but now.
I am crawling inside my own skin and I would do anything to feel different.
Here’s where the booze used to enter. It “takes the edge off, " and right now I am edgy as hell. It's highly debatable whether being drunk is truly a better way to be, but at least it’s different than this.
On the other side of the scale, I don't feel like this at all when my internal gauge is pointed to Abundance.
I feel calm and centered, full of love and compassion and light. I feel generous and giving, and I grin broadly at everything. I chuckle to myself with a bemused and forgiving affection for the world. I am fun when I am abundant! It is all good!
But my experience of abundance isn't actually dependent on favorable conditions, or on the wind blowing the right direction: often that's not true at all.
Another word for my experience of abundance, then, is acceptance. When I accept what is happening right now, without condition or judgment, without resistance and struggle, and without irritation and impatience, I feel enough-ness. I know the universe will provide what I need and I am able to relax and breathe easy.
Scarcity operates in this way a lot like its thuggish cousin, anxiety. When my anxiety kicks in, it grabs onto the nearest handy stressor and squeezes:
Beware:
the big meeting tomorrow,
the event I am planning,
the leak under the sink,
the bills that are due,
the little tickle in the back of my throat that might be a cold
or maybe the first signs of a dreaded disease.
Anxiety is a habit: as soon as one fear dissipates, my anxiety will find another to take its place, like one of those shooting galleries at the fair where there is always another duck target rising up from underneath.
dAVE's fears all lined up like...
The habit of scarcity works the same way, endlessly grabbing onto another illusion:
dAVE!!! Get real!!! There is not enough money, or time, or water, or love or hope.
Protect yourself!!! Hide!!! Run away!!!
I am so grateful that we can choose to change our habits. Thank goodness practice makes permanent.
It's not easy, but I am making a choice to let go of my habit of scarcity. I am choosing to lean into the illusion, to taste it, to describe it, and to write about it.
Rather than numb out and wish it was different, I am looking scarcity in the eye, staying present in this discomfort, and taking a long deep breath.
It turns out that I have all the air I need.
The view from my desk as I post this piece. Gratitude!