Call ordinary moments wealth and they multiply.

 I used to think wealth arrived later—after, if, when. Then I started counting evidence now. The slight shimmer on still water. A breeze that finds my skin like it knows me. An animal crossing my path with no urgency at all. These are not decor. They are receipts that life remains abundant, with or without my effort. When I let them count, scarcity grows quiet. I stop narrating lack and start practicing receivership.

Receivership is not passivity. It is participation without grasping. I show up open-handed and I meet the day as it is, not as I am trying to trap it into being. Paradoxically, more arrives when I stop demanding that it look like a specific form. Attention becomes its own kind of prosperity: the more I pay, the more returns I notice. I am not pretending everything is perfect. I am acknowledging that everything is everything—that the plain and the luminous are rarely separate. When I live that way, generosity becomes natural. Having counted what’s here, I have more to give.

What ordinary thing will you let count as wealth right now?