Rules of Abundance, Rules of Truth

I came to Santa Barbara the way you walk into a dream. The ocean was blue in a way that made me forget the desert. Doors opened, almost casually, as if they had been waiting for me. People smiled, invited me in. For a while, I believed that flow was endless.

Then the tide shifted. The dream became quiet. Smiles disappeared like steam from a teacup. I stood at the edge of the city, watching doors close without a sound. I had mistaken the surface for depth, and the rhythm of Santa Barbara slipped out of my hands like water.

Once, Joshua Tree felt like a place that welcomed me, only to uncover the bare truth about myself. It did not flatter. It did not soften. Out here, only the strong survive: the animals, the plants, the people who learn to bend with the wind and dig their roots deep into the dry earth. Beneath its harshness runs a hidden current of life force, a strange, enduring love. But the desert offers it without comfort. It gives only what is real.

In Santa Barbara, the rule of abundance is to move with ease. Things come when you don’t push too hard. In Joshua Tree, the rule of truth is to stand still, even when the stillness feels uncomfortable. Between the two, I keep walking, trying to learn to carry the rules of abundance in one pocket and the rules of truth in the other.

I feel both are necessary to learn. Abundance without truth is shallow, and truth without abundance is barren. Together, they form something whole, like two sides of a coin you can only spend if you keep it intact.

I carry them both as I move between the ocean and the desert. The sea is teaching me to open, to let things arrive. The desert teaches me to strip away, to hold only what is real.

They rattle against each other like coins. For now. It is just another beginning.

Beyond them lies something I can’t yet name, a mental space I can only reach by walking through both. To live lightly, but without losing depth. To stay rooted, but not closed.

The rules of abundance. The rules of truth. Not really rules at all, but shifting winds.

A Reflection for You

As you read this, take a slow breath in, and let it fall gently out.

Notice: in your own life, where do the rules of abundance speak louder, and where do the rules of truth demand your attention?

You might ask yourself:

• Where am I softening, opening to receive?

• Where am I standing in clarity, even if it feels uncomfortable?

• And what would it look like if I allowed both to meet in my body, in my breath, in my daily rituals?

When I pour tea, I imagine the ocean of Santa Barbara and the desert of Joshua Tree meeting in the cup. The warmth carries both abundance and truth into the body, reminding me that wholeness comes when we allow opposites to belong together.

Take a sip. Take a breath. The answers will arrive in their own time.

Love,

Yuna