Blossoming Abundance (a love note to your in-progress garden)
Take a breath with me. Imagine a garden washed in soft, golden light — not a stiff, magazine-perfect yard, but a living, humming place. Leaves rustle, colours pop, and something is quietly gearing up to bloom. That’s the energy I want for you today: abundance that’s in motion. Not “ta-da, done and dusted,” but blossoming — alive, unfolding, getting lovelier by the minute.
Here’s the first reframe: abundance isn’t a single tulip planted in neat rows. It’s a riot of purples, yellows, oranges; different shapes and textures; parsley next to peonies because why not. Real abundance is variety, not just “more of one thing.” It’s money, sure — and also time that doesn’t feel like it’s sprinting away from you, a spine that doesn’t resent your chair, text messages that make your heart do a happy little tap dance, creative ideas that sneak in while you’re buttering toast, and a Wednesday that’s pleasantly boring in the best possible way.
We tend to squint at abundance like it’s only allowed to arrive via direct deposit. But look closer — the golden bits are sprinkled everywhere. The compliment you almost brushed off. The friend who showed up at the exact right moment with soup and zero questions. The sunrise that made you stop mid-sip. The neighbour who shovelled your half of the sidewalk (bless you, Marj). These tiny glimmers are like little coins hidden among the branches. You’re richer than you think; you just might need to slow your roll and notice.
Zoom out with me for a second — think bird’s-eye view. (No actual perching required, though if you’d like to climb something, I support the drama.) From up there the picture gets simpler: you don’t have to wrangle the whole forest. You just need to tend your patch. The vines can hang freely and still look harmonious. Nothing’s forced. That’s the secret: true abundance doesn’t respond to wrestling. It responds to care, attention, and time. Divine Timing, for the record, does not accept calendar invites or respond to “???” texts. Ask me how I know.
If you’re anxious about results — watching the soil like it owes you a status update — here’s a gentle nudge: keep tending. Keep watering. Keep showing up for the tiny things that signal life. But maybe put down the stopwatch. Every “Where is it? Why isn’t it here yet?” is like tapping the bud and asking it to please skip the whole photosynthesis bit and go straight to bouquet. Buds do not appreciate micromanagement. Neither does your nervous system.
A quick reality check on mindset (yes, I know, but it’s important): if you’re obsessing over what’s missing, you’re not “being realistic,” you’re accidentally fertilising the feeling of lack. Not helpful. This doesn’t mean ignore your bills or pretend you’re thrilled when you’re not. It means balance the broadcast. For every “not yet,” name one “already here.” That puts you back in flow with what you want more of.
Want a few practical ways to cultivate blossoming abundance — without turning your life into a productivity boot camp? Try these li’l ideas:
Soil before seeds. Sleep, water, meals that involve actual vegetables, and boundaries. Your ideas can’t root in depleted dirt.
Sunlight = attention. Give five focused minutes to what matters (write the paragraph, send the email, stretch the hips, check the budget). Five minutes compound.
Water = consistency. Small, regular sips beat occasional gulps. (Also true for actual water. Your kidneys say hi.)
Weed the plot. Say “no, thank you” to one thing that eats your time/joy. You don’t need to set everything on fire; just pull one weed today.
Compost the comparison. If someone else is blooming, clap for them and feed your own soil. Their spring isn’t your failure; it’s proof things grow here.
If you’re in a dry spell, please remember that seeds sprout underground long before you see a single green shoot. On the surface: “nothing.” Beneath: absolute mayhem — cracking, unfurling, tiny roots getting a grip. You are allowed to trust processes you can’t see yet. Also, manure happens. It’s messy, it smells, and it is — unfortunately — fantastic fertilizer. If life is delivering a particularly generous load, try the reframe: “Ah. Building soil. Noted.”
Let’s also widen the definition of “win.” Abundance is momentum, not just milestones. Did you rest instead of rage-working yourself into a headache? That’s capacity abundance. Did you choose a walk over a doom-scroll? Attention abundance. Did you tell the truth, even though your voice shook like a maple leaf in October? Integrity abundance. Count them. Seriously. Write them down. Your brain likes receipts.
Because we’re here for humour and heart, three micro-rituals for your week:
The Already-Rich List. Each night, jot three ways you were rich today (a kind email, hot shower, zero drama, found twenty bucks in a coat pocket from 2019). Train your attention to notice the “coins in the branches.”
Tiny Generosity. Give what you want to grow. Want more encouragement? Send a two-line note to someone who’s trying. Want more ease with money? Tip a dollar extra if you can swing it, or share a resource freely. Abundance loves circulation.
Five-Minute Flourish. Pick one area (health, work, home, relationships, creativity) and do a five-minute action that would make Future-You proud. Set a timer. Stop when it dings. Micro-wins fuel macro-blooms.
And while we’re at it, let’s talk receiving — the Canadian Achilles’ heel. When someone offers help or a compliment, try responding with the wildly advanced technique called “Thank you.” Full stop. No “oh, it was nothing,” no apologetic shrug, no self-deprecating stand-up routine. Let goodness land. That’s how your ecosystem learns it’s safe to grow.
A gentle word about control: forcing abundance is like yelling at sourdough. You can measure, feed, and tuck it in, but the rise happens when it’s ready. Your job is conditions; the universe handles chemistry. Hold the spade; release the stopwatch.
If your brain needs a visual (mine always does), picture your life as a big community garden. Some plots are overflowing with tomatoes. Some are just starting to leaf. Some look suspiciously like they’re doing nothing — and then overnight there’s a zucchini the size of a canoe. You’re not failing because you and your neighbour are on different timelines. You’re all sharing sunlight. And if a windstorm knocks over a trellis, guess what? People will wander over with twine and jokes and probably muffins. That, too, is abundance.
So today, notice what’s already blossoming — outside and inside. The text that made you smile. The idea that won’t stop nudging you. The way you’ve been speaking to yourself with a little more tenderness. Give thanks for those. Tend what you love. And when you feel the urge to push and prod and demand, soften your grip. Breathe. Trust that something is working on your behalf, even if the evidence is shy.
You are part of this garden. You are both the gardener and the bloom, the soil and the sunshine, the one who waters and the one who’s growing. Align with that rhythm — the natural, not-rushed, not-performative rhythm — and you’ll start to see abundance where it’s always been: all around you, and already within you.
Deep breath. Thank you for what is. Welcome to what’s on its way. 🌿✨