A Letter to the Illusion of Lack

Dear Illusion of Lack,

You are truly a master of your craft. An illusion so skillful that most of us hardly realize you’re exactly that - an illusion. You sneak into our thoughts, whispering that we need more, more money, more things, more time, more of everything. You paint a picture of a future "perfect life" where happiness and satisfaction await, but it’s always somewhere else, never here and now.

And I must admit, I have to give you some credit. You are a driving force. You push us to strive, to create, to grow. Thanks to you, we’ve built cities, composed symphonies, and launched rockets to the moon. You’ve been a catalyst for progress and innovation. But I can’t help but wonder - at what cost?

When you whisper of scarcity, we often forget all that we already have. Our hearts and breath, tirelessly giving us life day and night, never asking for anything in return. The sunlight that warms us each morning, and the fireplace that keeps us cozy in the evening. In your whispers, we easily forget the relationships, the laughter, and the moments that truly make life worth living. Instead, we get trapped in a hamster wheel of endlessly chasing more.

And here we are, in the swirling chaos of Christmas, running around like fools buying more things. Not to give out of love or simplicity, but to meet expectations and satisfy the feeling that what we already have and who we already are isn’t enough. Thanks to you, we believe our happiness can be purchased, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with elegant ribbons.

But the irony is, you never keep your promises. Even when we get more, you always leave us feeling like it still isn’t enough. You’re never satisfied, are you? And that’s where you reveal your true nature - that you’re just an illusion. Because the truth is, we already have everything we need. As long as we have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and loving relationships, we have life. And that’s worth far more than a pile of possessions.

Yet, I must also admit that there’s a certain wisdom in you. Because you force us to pause and ask ourselves, "What am I really chasing? Do I truly need that, or is it just fear of not being enough?" Seen from that perspective, you become a teacher. A rather stubborn and frustrating one, but a teacher nonetheless.

So here’s my invitation to you, dear illusion. Let’s work together in a new way. Inspire me to create and grow - not to fill any imagined void, but to share the abundance I already have. Remind me to give from the heart and to focus more on the gifts that can’t be bought - time, presence and love.

And for those of us caught up in the holiday frenzy, perhaps you could do us a favor. Take a step back and let us remember what we already have and that we are loved for who we are. Let us enjoy a cup of tea with a friend, a walk in the snow or a moment of silence under the stars. For it is there, in the present moment, that the abundance of life is always waiting.

With gratitude and a wish for a little more honesty,

Mike