Stepping Beyond Scarcity
The Call to Help
In the spring of 2024, after I began posting on X, I received messages from people in Africa asking for help. Many were in genuine need: food, shelter, care for orphaned children. At the time, I was attempting to move entirely in the flow. I responded to the call. I gave freely. In the span of a few months, I spent nearly $20,000 assisting individuals, orphanages, and communities.
At first, I felt expansive. Grateful, even, that I could make a tangible difference. There was a sense of magic to it: money flowing out and goodness flowing in. I imagined I was participating in something beautiful—humanity healing itself, one connection at a time.
But soon, I began to feel tired. A kind of heaviness settled into my chest every time I saw a new message. It felt less like a request and more like a claim. My stomach would tighten before I opened my inbox. Guilt crept in. Obligation replaced joy. I found myself wondering if I had accidentally become a god in someone else's cosmology—a being who could provide endlessly, and thus must.
I wanted to help. I truly did. But I also began to feel the subtle unraveling of my own center.
When Giving Isn't Enough
No matter how much I gave, it was never enough.
With each gift, more need appeared. The messages multiplied. The tone shifted from gratitude to expectation. What had begun as love became pressure. What had been compassion began to feel like collapse. I realized: need creates more need.
Not because people are greedy. But because when support is given from outside the self, it affirms a dangerous illusion: I am not whole without you. The more I gave, the more this illusion solidified—in them, and in me. I had become the source of their survival. And they, unknowingly, had become siphons draining my light. It would have continued until I had nothing left.
So I stopped. Even though some are now starving, I stopped.
And in doing so, I stepped beyond scarcity.
The Nature of Scarcity
Scarcity is not simply a condition of lacking resources. It is a state of consciousness rooted in separation. It emerges when we forget that we are participants in, and expressions of, a larger system that naturally sustains and responds to us. In that forgetting, we begin to see ourselves as isolated beings in a hostile or indifferent world. And from that place, need transforms into desperation.
We grasp for security. We cling to anyone who might offer relief. We cry out, not only for aid, but for reassurance that we are not alone in the void. And in our longing, we begin to cast roles upon others: the savior who might deliver us, or the villain who withholds. The deeper the sense of separation, the more intense the drama becomes. Scarcity, then, is not a lack of supply, but a loss of belonging.
Giving from Resonance
I learned that true giving must come from resonance, not rescue.
When you give from resonance, you are overflowing. You offer what wishes to move through you, not what you think others require. You trust the greater system—and you see that it includes the other person. You are not above them. You are not their lifeline. You are a mirror of their own potential to step into wholeness.
It is not unkind to say no. It is unkind to give in response to need, and to pretend that depletion is generosity.
A New Pattern of Care
Today, I no longer offer financial support to those who ask. Not because I am indifferent, but because I have come to understand the deeper dynamics at play.
When I gave, I was unintentionally reinforcing the story that they were helpless and I was their only hope. This created a dependency that neither of us truly wanted. It locked us both into a distorted dynamic: me as the savior, them as the saved. Over time, I realized that this was not love—it was entanglement.
I stopped giving financially because I began to care not only about their temporary relief, but about their long-term empowerment. I began to care about my own integrity, energy, and ability to serve from a place of clarity. I now hold the pattern of wholeness, not rescue. One where aid flows in alignment with truth. One where love uplifts through reflection, not depletion. One where the healing of the world does not come through sacrifice, but through shared remembrance of our inherent sovereignty.
That said, I still give financially when it feels resonant. There are moments when someone stands clearly in their own growth, using the support not to reinforce dependency, but to catalyze transformation. In those cases, giving becomes a collaboration with life itself—an offering into a system already unfolding toward its own wholeness. It feels clear. It feels clean. It moves through me without hesitation or cost. And that is how I know it is true.
What It Means to Step Beyond Scarcity
So what, then, does it actually look like to step beyond scarcity? After all the giving, stopping, reflecting, and realigning, what remains? What becomes clear when the illusion of separateness fades, and you are no longer acting from guilt, fear, or obligation?
This is what it means to step beyond scarcity:
To trust that others can find their own wholeness.
To give only what flows without cost.
To stop leaking energy into false mercy.
To honor truth above obligation.
It means recognizing that real care does not sacrifice the self. That true generosity moves without distortion. That when the field is clear, giving becomes joyful, effortless, and clean.
Scarcity ends not when every belly is full, but when we remember we are not separate from the system that feeds us. When we feel that, deeply, we begin to move differently. We begin to give and receive in the rhythm of wholeness.
And when we remember, prosperity begins.
A Practice: Feeling the System That Holds You
If you wish to begin stepping beyond scarcity, try this:
Sit quietly for a few minutes. Let your body settle. Breathe.
Now imagine the system that sustains you. Not as an abstract idea, but as a living presence. The air you breathe. The ground beneath your feet. The path that led you here. The invisible symphony of relationships, synchronicities, and flows that make your life possible.
Feel into that. Let it wrap around you.
Notice what it feels like to be held—by existence itself.
See if you can shift your attention from what is missing to what is already moving to meet you. Let yourself rest there. Not only as a technique, but as a remembering.
This is where prosperity begins: not in getting more, but in realizing you are already part of the flow.
May you remember your place in the flow. May you give and receive from the wholeness you already are.
