Almost three years ago, I spent every dollar I had on a photography workshop in Florida. Going into it, I told myself: if this doesn’t work, I’m becoming a garbage man.
I wasn’t joking. I figured I was in decent shape, they get paid pretty well, their workday ends early, and I don’t have too sensitive of a stomach. Plus, I could hang off the back and wear Dickies and it would look kind of cool, maybe.
The workshop changed everything. Not because I learned some revolutionary technique, but because I finally understood that this fear I’d been living in, that I’m not good enough, that I can’t do it, that I don’t belong here, was running through everything. It was like a malignant fiber woven into every decision, every interaction, every inquiry that came in.
It wasn’t just about my business struggling. It was about me being convinced I wasn’t enough.
Fast forward to about a year ago…
I got an inquiry for a “birthday party.”
My first instinct? I almost didn’t call back.
Birthday parties in my mind meant they were looking for individual retouched portraits of every person in attendance, photoshopped into a composite to look like everyone is in Cancun, budget is $50. $40 if they get cake.
But one thing I learned at that workshop was that when you’re looking at someone as a means to an end instead of as an actual person, they can feel it. You’re not truly listening. You’re calculating. And people can tell.
So I called anyway.
We ended up talking for over an hour. Not the “deep listening” where you repeat every fifth word or whatever you’re supposed to do, but just being fully present with an open mind and heart. Leaning in with the only real desire being: can I actually provide a service to this person?
Through that conversation, I learned this wasn’t just a birthday party. It was a milestone celebration for someone who’d just finished writing and publishing a book despite serious health challenges. Family flying in from all over the country. A real celebration of life and legacy.
It was one of the most meaningful sessions I’ve ever done. She’s one of my favorite people I’ve ever worked with.
And I almost said no because some part of me was convinced they wouldn’t pay enough. That I wasn’t enough to be selective. That I needed to protect myself from disappointment.
People talk about scarcity as “not having enough.” Not enough money, not enough clients, not enough time.
But that’s not what it actually is.
Scarcity is the fear that I’m not enough. That I’m somehow ill-equipped or insufficient. That I don’t truly belong in this world and haven’t earned my right to exist.
That sounds dramatic, but it’s what’s actually going on in those moments.
This is the time of year when Sue and I start spiraling about whether the kids will have a good Christmas.
Every room in the house looks like a Toys R Us exploded. But we attach material objects to self-worth. We tell ourselves scarcity is about having enough money, time, resources, praise, friends. But underneath it all, it’s just about being enough.
And here’s the trap: if I let the fear that my kids won’t have a good Christmas without enough stuff drive me, I pass that same fear down to them.
My daughter is four and absolutely psyched for Santa to come. My son is fifteen months and has no idea what’s happening. She can count now, so once you set the bar at a certain number of presents, you’re stuck there.
Obviously, we’re going to give them presents. But we’re also making sure she gives a gift to everyone, so she can experience what that feels like.
Because what I really want is for my kids to know that abundance is the truth, not scarcity. That they’re good enough no matter what. That their worth isn’t based on material possessions. That they can be happy no matter what’s going on. That they’re okay.
That they don’t need to let fear of not-enough-ness pull them out of the greater reality that they’re loved unconditionally and always will be.
And the best way to teach them that is to actually learn it myself. If I don’t see things correctly, I’ll teach them the wrong thing.
“Abundance” gets kind of a bad rap. It’s been overused to the point of being meaningless in a lot of cases. But the truth is, thinking of it as there being enough stuff in the world overlooks that it’s really about just being okay with what is.
It’s trusting that if I show up for people and try to make their lives better, I’ll also be taken care of.
It’s a posture. A choice I get to make again and again.
customized by launch your daydream
Corey Flint Photography, 39 Lexington Rd., Lincoln, MA 01773 617-319-3913
all rights reserved