As I transitioned out of my second full-time job and into devoting more time to coaching, I noticed how a minor shake-up in routine can jolt perspective like a snow globe. Suddenly, the familiar way I viewed scarcity and abundance got an unexpected remix.
I had grand plans for my three-week transition, chief among them: repaying my social debt. I would finally meet up with friends I hadn’t seen while juggling work, family, and professional development—something long overdue. But two weeks in, after an ungraceful battle with influenza which I totally did not plan for, I found myself staring at my pitiful progress in reconnecting with people. I braced myself for the impending self-flagellation: How could I squander this opportunity?
Just before the mental flogging could commence, an interesting contrast popped into my head. Here I was, lamenting my failure to finish meeting up with all the people on my mind, while in my younger days or vulnerable moments, I had agonised over the lack of meaningful relationships in my life. When did I shift from hoarding scraps of connection to feeling overwhelmed by abundance? The number of contacts on my phone hadn’t magically multiplied overnight.
The real shift, I realised, was in how I viewed connection itself. Instead of measuring friendships by frequency of hangouts, I began appreciating the depth and quality of my existing relationships and, perhaps more importantly, growing comfort with solitude.
My disappointment didn’t stem from social deprivation or disconnection; it was simply the frustration of not being able to give my time to everyone in my mind. And yet, despite the light social calendar, my heart feels full.
In scarcity mode, I once measured connection by quantity—the number of gatherings, the frequency of check-ins, the reassuring pings of notifications. But in abundance, I’ve realised that presence matters more than proximity. Some friendships remain steady, even without constant interaction, and solitude isn’t a sign of loneliness—it’s a space where clarity can emerge.
What changed wasn’t my circumstances but the mindset through which I experienced them. Scarcity told me I was missing out; abundance reminds me that I have enough. The same reality, just a different filter.
And so, I wonder—how often do we mistake lack for loss, simply because we haven’t adjusted our perspective? When have you experienced a shift from scarcity to abundance in your own life?