Most of us have felt it at some point, even if we didn’t have words for it.
Maybe it was standing in a garden, watching something grow where yesterday there was bare soil.
Maybe it was sharing a meal that somehow tasted better because it was shared.
Maybe it was a moment when things slowed down just enough to feel… right.
That feeling has a name.
Not abundance as a bank balance or profit, but abundance as life working the way it’s meant to.
The First Lesson Is Small
Take a single seed.
Hold it in your hand. It’s unremarkable. Easy to overlook, lose or discard.
But, place it in the ground, give it water and care, and something extraordinary happens.
It doesn’t just become one thing - it's not a one-for-one relationship.
It becomes food for the body.
It becomes pleasure for the mind.
It produces many more seeds for next season, and the season after that.
The Earth doesn’t count carefully and say, “That’s enough.”
The Earth is all about addition and multiplication. That's abundance.
Scarcity is not what happens naturally.
Scarcity happens when growth is blocked - the way government does, by division and subtraction.
Rain doesn’t fall with instructions attached.
It doesn’t ask who deserves it.
It doesn’t demand payment before it moves.
It falls, soaks in, fills creeks, feeds roots, cools the air, brings hope and travels on.
One rainfall becomes many things, in many places, for many lives.
Abundance flows.
It doesn’t sit still.
Healthy soil isn’t exhausted by use.
It improves when it’s cared for.
When leaves return to the earth, when crops are rotated, when land is allowed to rest, the soil grows richer. More alive. More generous.
The land responds to respect.
When we treat Earth as something to strip and pollute, it withers.
When we treat it as something to tend, to nurture, it gives back — quietly, reliably.
A forest is not chaotic.
It’s cooperative.
Trees grow tall, not to dominate, but to make space below.
Roots intertwine.
Fungi carry messages and nutrients underground.
From this cooperation comes timber — strong, warm, enduring.
Material for shelter, for tools, for homes.
For most of history, people built with what the land around them freely offered: timber, clay, stone, fibre, earth.
Natural building materials are not rare.
They become rare only when access is restricted.
Bees don’t rush.
They don’t argue over ownership.
They simply do what they were designed to do — and in doing so, they feed entire ecosystems.
Abundance emerges when each part plays its role without fear.
We are no different.
When knowledge is shared, it multiplies.
When skills are passed on, communities become capable.
When time and attention are given freely, problems soften.
A shared meal feeds more than bodies.
A shared effort lightens the load.
A shared responsibility creates belonging.
We are wired for abundance.
So why does it feel so distant?
Love is not a scarce resource.
It does not run out when shared.
It does not need permission.
It does not require agreement.
Love multiplies in the same way seeds do — quietly, naturally, and often unseen at first.
A mother’s patience.
A father’s steady presence.
A neighbour who checks in.
A stranger who listens without fixing.
These are not small things. They are the quiet foundations of a healthy Earth.
When communities are organised around fear, compliance, and pressure, love is treated as fragile or naïve. But when people gather freely, love returns to its natural place — practical, grounding, and strong.
Local Assemblies are not built on ideology. They are built on relationships. On the simple act of people caring enough about one another to sit in the same room and talk.
Love is abundant when harm is removed.
Love is abundant when people are no longer forced to act against their conscience.
Love is abundant when we remember we belong to each other.
The Earth already knows this.
We are simply remembering.
Smiles cost nothing.
They don’t require resources, approval, or training.
They appear naturally when people feel safe.
A smile at a market stall.
A smile across a meeting table.
A smile that says, I see you — without words.
Smiles are one of the first signs of abundance returning.
When systems are heavy, rushed, or punitive, smiles disappear. Faces tighten. Eyes look away. But when pressure lifts, something remarkable happens: people soften.
They laugh again.
They make eye contact.
They remember joy.
Local Assemblies create space for this in ways that policies never could. Not through force or performance, but through familiarity — seeing the same faces, hearing the same voices, and slowly building trust.
Smiles remind us that we are not enemies.
That life is not meant to be endured.
That cooperation feels better than compliance.
An abundant Earth is not only measured in harvests and homes.
It is visible in relaxed shoulders, open faces, and shared laughter.
If you see more smiles in your community, abundance is already taking root.
Over time, something changed.
Systems grew that no longer served life, but controlled it.
Access became permission.
Care became compliance.
Stewardship became extraction.
Government and the other privately owned corporations didn’t just create scarcity — it enforced it.
Not because the Earth ran out, but because barriers were placed between people and what they share:
The harm we experience today is not natural.
It is structural.
This is where the Assemblies come in.
Not as a grand revolution but an evolution.
Not as another system to obey, but a way to work together to overcome obstacles.
Assemblies are the only way, and the proper way, to direct the corporations in what they can, and cannot do.
As a simple act of removal.
Assemblies don’t manufacture abundance.
They make room for it.
We go from “I’m just one man” or one woman, to us – united by the vision of a better, abundant Earth.
Assemblies bring decisions back to the places where people can see, feel, and care about the outcomes.
They allow land, water, timber, skills, responsibility and so much more, to be stewarded locally, together.
When we end the harm, abundance doesn’t need to be forced.
Abundance returns. Naturally.
It’s how life is when allowed to just be.
A Gentle Question
If abundance makes sense —
if this reads more like remembering than learning —
perhaps that’s because you already know it.
The Assemblies are simply a place where that knowing is put back into practice.
Quietly.
Locally.
Together.
An abundant Earth is not something we must invent — it is already there, we simply need to remember. It shows itself when food grows freely, when homes are built from the gifts of the land, when love flows without condition, and when smiles return to faces that have been tight for too long. It appears wherever people gather voluntarily to listen, and care for one another. Local Assemblies are simply a place where this remembering becomes practical — where neighbours meet to put an end to harm, to steward what they share, and resolve what matters close to home. When we assemble, we quietly build a future we can be proud to bequeath to our offspring. Abundance will reveal itself in the same way a seed multiples, when people choose to come together in good faith.
