It's hard not to feel the weight these days.
Senseless wars drag on, our planet burns and floods in the same breath, prices rise, income slows and beneath it all, a low hum of exhaustion. As if our world itself had forgotten how to breathe.
Add to that the loop we can’t seem to escape: produce, perform, perfect, repeat. We call it progress, but it feels more like survival. So we push harder, tell ourselves that maybe hustle will save us, that motion equals meaning.
But that’s just scarcity whispering its old lie: that there isn’t enough. Not enough time, not enough opportunities, not enough of us to go around.
And what do we do in fear?
We grip tighter.
Hold on, not yet, wait til it’s the right time…
And so we hide our ideas for fear they would be stolen, our kindness until it’s earned, our hope until it feels safe. This kind of fear doesn’t protect us, it just keeps everything frozen.
Luckily, I came across a story that reminded me that there’s another way. In her essay The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance, Robin Wall Kimmerer, botanist and Potawatomi Nation storyteller, writes about a small fruit that ripens all at once.
And when it does, there’s too much for one being to hoard. So birds, deer, humans, all feast together. No fences, no ownership, no “it’s mine.” Most importantly, everyone gives back differently: birds scatter seeds, deer feed the soil, humans share and preserve the fruit.
This image of life giving without fear of depletion,
feels like a map back to sanity.
If we are told our world runs on scarcity,
maybe our quiet rebellion is to live by abundance!
In North African wisdom, that circular current of receiving and giving has a name: baraka or blessing that multiplies when it moves.
It’s through that lens that I started exploring how we can live our lives on purpose through intention and abundance; and because I firmly believe that when our creativity, care, and courage flow outward, we keep life moving.
That’s the spirit behind Maktoub in Motion, a workbook I made as a small rebellion against the noise. It helps us return, if we give ourselves the space, to baraka (abundance) and niya (purpose) when the world feels too heavy.
So maybe this week, as headlines scream lack and chaos, we become the countercurrent.
We share what we can
We rest when we must
We refuse to hoardThe world doesn’t need our fear
It needs our fullnessEvery time one of us chooses trust over fear
The collective shifts…just a little.
Heartfully,
Ratiba
