Today, I’ve been asked to be among the teachers presenting a poem during our weekly prayer service at school. It’s to be about Rain, to invite in the rain now that it’s past Sukkot, the harvest holiday, and officially into the Fall and Winter months.
The idea of being receptive to abundance is what’s rattling around in my head. The idea that we have built hardscapes that prevent any rain — or abundance — that’s already being offered us from actually reaching the depths where it will do the most good.
The idea of our shunning or turning away from this bounty feels relevant; of our not accepting the blessings being offered or seeing the good that exists, because they don’t look like we want or we don’t look like we want.
When do we get to say, “Yes, I allow myself to receive”? “Yes, I am enough”? When do we get to say that, yes, we have earned the right to the gorgeousness of life, simply for the fact of our being born into it?
There is no scorecard for abundance. There is no number of duties or tasks that I’m to perform in order to be worthy. I do not need to please a god to be worthy.
Nor a parent, nor friend, nor, frankly, even myself.
The only requirement for receiving abundance is to see it. To look up, and to notice. To see the real and metaphorical dew drops on pine needles, to see the real and metaphorical water cycle pumping its heart of new growth and saturating our entire earthen planet.
This noticing is my ticket to receiving. The abundance is already there, like water puddled atop a slab of concrete — all I need do is break through it.