It’s 7:45 in the evening, I just got back from dinner, and sometime soon my friend Justin is coming over to hang out and catch up. Because our chats often go on for hours, I’m hoping to be done blogging by the time he gets here. I simply can’t imagine that my brain will feel like waking up and rising to the occasion at two in the morning. Not that I haven’t blogged late at night a hundred times before. God knows. Last night I started at midnight. And whereas I technically finished writing in an hour, I dragged the editing process out until three because I kept “tabbing over” to an online library I discovered. No kidding, they have millions of digitalized books that you can either download or borrow for free. I spent hours comparing my Amazon wish list to the site’s catalog and found over thirty-five books I’ve been wanting!

Lately I’ve been spending more time “collecting” books or searching for them online than I have actually reading them. Not that I haven’t been reading. It just takes so much time. Conversely, downloading a book, or flagging it on a library site, only takes a moment. Anyway, I’ve amassed quite the reading list. And whereas this used to overwhelm me, like, How will I ever read all these?, I’ve realized I don’t have to. There’s not a cosmic librarian or test administrator who’s going to quiz me on what’s in my head. Rather, all these books are here for my pleasure. And the fact that there are SO MANY BOOKS TO POTENTIALLY READ?

That’s just a sign of abundance.

Recently I heard that God is not a miser. That is, you can’t look at life, with it’s thousands of varieties of animals and plants on the earth and millions of stars in the sky and say that it’s cheap or anything but extravagant. This is my point about books. The world is full of information, knowledge, and stories. It always has been and always will be. This is why it’s becoming more and more ridiculous to me when I hear people say that things will never change or that THEIR problem can’t be solved. You’re telling me you live in a universe that can hang a moon in the sky but can’t fix your situation?

I know that my problem for the longest time has been that although I could see the abundance of the universe, I felt disconnected from it. Having been told by religion that I’m a worm and a sinner, a stranger in a strange land, I haven’t exactly felt like I belonged here or was otherwise worthy of experiencing and receiving life’s abundance. But that’s changing for me. Now I believe that, just like the trees and stars, I have a right to be here. Indeed, I am part of life and have a purpose in being here. And just like everyone else, I’m allowed to experience the very best (and worst) that life has to offer.

My therapist says that almost every client she has deals with “poverty mentality” in one way or another. Today I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller that said although poverty mentality can feel good (because we get to feel sorry for ourselves), the truth is that we’re anything but poor. (I’m not talking about money.) Rather, we come into life vastly supported, set up to succeed. Our souls and psyches offer us endless resources. This morning I watched a video about human living fascia, what most people call CONNECTIVE tissue, but what one researcher says is actually CONSTRUCTIVE tissue. Oh my gosh, y’all, fascia is glorious, genius. No kidding, you’re made of a gossamer web of light. My point being that our physical bodies are marvelously made, abundant in their wisdom.

For me, this is where abundance begins–recognizing where I’m already rich beyond measure. Sure, it’d be easy to focus on money, or lack thereof. Everything is about money in the world. But I could have ten times–a hundred times!–the money I have now and still feel poor. Still wake up every day and be totally ignorant of the endless beauty around me, the endless resources in my mind, body, and soul, and the endless potential answers that exist to all my challenges and problems. To anyone’s. So more and more I’m grateful for hundreds of books and millions of stars, for they remind me not only of the abundance of that I am connected to, but also of which I am constructed.