The Path to Purpose: Presence and Intention (Chapter Preview)

Chapter 14

Presence and Intention

Presence is talked about a lot — and often in ways that make it feel inaccessible or abstract. For some people, meditation is where they first learn to access it, something they can practice and slowly carry into daily life. But for others, that doorway never quite opens. The mental loops feel impossible to interrupt, no matter how hard they try or how many techniques they’re given. No matter the visualization, the breath pattern, or the reframing trick, the mind keeps running.

The issue isn’t a lack of discipline or depth. It’s that presence doesn’t arrive through stillness first for everyone. Some nervous systems don’t settle by stopping — they settle by engaging. Trying to “drop into presence” through silence can actually increase frustration, self-judgment, or the sense of doing it wrong.

Yet those same people have experienced presence — just not in the way it’s usually described.

It shows up in motion. In rhythm. In focus.

While running, lifting, skating, swimming, or playing a sport — when attention locks into breath, timing, or physical effort and the internal commentary finally quiets. For many people, this is why they return to these activities again and again. Not for productivity. For relief. For the rare feeling of being fully here. People often explain this as endorphins — and biology is certainly part of the picture. Movement changes chemistry. It regulates stress hormones and releases feel-good neurochemicals. But chemistry alone doesn’t explain the quality of the experience.

What’s actually happening is attentional anchoring. The body demands enough of your awareness that the mind can’t keep looping. Breath, rhythm, coordination, and effort pull attention out of rumination and into the present moment.

Presence doesn’t look the same for everyone. For some, it happens through movement. For others, it happens through immersion.

Travel is a powerful example. Being somewhere unfamiliar naturally softens the grip of routine and expectation. There’s no familiar schedule to manage, no mental checklist waiting to be cleared. Attention opens outward — to new streets, different sounds, slower mornings, unfamiliar details — not because you’re trying to focus, but because curiosity takes over.  You just want to take everything in.

The mind quiets not through discipline, but through enjoyment. You’re not rehearsing what comes next or managing what’s unfinished. You’re there because you want to be. And that shift — from obligation to choice — creates space for presence to emerge on its own.

Creative work does the same. Writing, painting, building, cooking, designing — when you’re absorbed in the process, time thins out. You’re responding to what’s in front of you rather than managing an internal narrative. Presence arrives through engagement, not effort.

Some people find it in conversation — the rare moments where listening fully replaces preparing a response. Others find it while gardening, organizing a space, repairing something with their hands, or caring for animals. Attention narrows naturally to what’s being done. The mental noise softens.

Even crisis can force presence. When something demands immediate response, the mind drops its commentary and focuses. This isn’t something to seek — but it reveals an important truth: presence emerges when attention is fully claimed by reality.

Stillness is one doorway into presence — but it isn’t the only one. For many, presence is easier to access through engagement, when the body is involved and the mind no longer needs to manage or anticipate. And once you recognize that, presence stops being a skill reserved for meditation cushions or quiet rooms. It becomes something you can access through the ways you already move, create, explore, and relate — grounding alignment not in theory, but in lived experience.

Moments of presence often arrive when life removes demand — when there’s no schedule to manage, no role to perform, no outcome to protect. Travel, creativity, movement, or immersion make presence accessible because they temporarily quiet obligation. But most life isn’t lived there. Most days are shaped by responsibility, routine, and tasks that don’t always feel chosen. You can’t structure an entire life around escape just to feel grounded.

This is where intention becomes essential. Intention is how presence becomes available inside ordinary life — inside responsibility, effort, and constraint. It shifts you from reacting to what’s required into consciously engaging with what’s in front of you. When you act with intention, attention gathers. The mind stops scattering. You’re no longer just getting through the moment; you’re in it. Intention doesn’t remove the to-do list — it changes your relationship to it. It’s the bridge that turns presence from something that happens occasionally into something you can access deliberately, even when life is asking more of you than you’d prefer.

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Many of us live in reaction. We wake up, move through our routines, respond to what shows up, and call it a day. Our habits — even the ones that drain us — become familiar, comfortable, predictable. We move through our days without truly participating in them. Hours blur into days, days blur into weeks, and suddenly we can barely distinguish one season of our life from the next. It feels like living, but it’s really repetition — a life running on outdated programming.

Intention is presence in motion. It’s the shift from simply noticing your life to consciously shaping it. Living in intention is how presence becomes a way of being rather than a momentary practice — the bridge between awareness and aligned action. It’s choosing to move through your day awake instead of on autopilot, engaged instead of drifting, directed instead of carried.

Intentional living isn’t some perfect state where your mind never wanders or old thought loops never return. It’s not about staying in the moment at all times — it’s about realizing when you’ve drifted and choosing to come back. Awareness is the part you can practice. Choice is what makes it accessible. You don’t need total stillness or endless discipline; you only need enough clarity to notice when you’re caught in an old pattern and gently choose a different thought, a different action, a different way of being. That’s where intention begins — not in perfection, but in the moment you decide to participate in your life again.

Intention needs a starting point, something to anchor it— a direction beneath the choices you make.  That anchor is your values. Once you get clear on what really matters to you, let that clarity guide your intention. Living with intention means taking those values and choosing to live them on purpose. Intention is how your values become your reality. It’s how desire becomes direction. It’s the quiet choice to align your actions with the life you want to build, one small decision at a time.

Living in intention doesn’t mean having every detail figured out. It doesn’t require a five-year plan or a perfect routine. It begins with a simple question:

What energy do I want to bring into today?

Not what do I need to accomplish?

Not what do people expect from me?

Not how do I make others proud?

But how do I want to feel — and how do I want others to feel in my presence?

Most goals focus on outcomes—what you’ll achieve, complete, or fix. But intention shifts the focus to experience. You might set a goal like: “Today I want to feel calm and connected.” Or, “I want the people around me to feel supported and seen.” These aren’t checkboxes to tick off. They’re quiet guideposts that shape the way you show up.

We already carry enough external pressure — to achieve, to earn, to accomplish, to prove ourselves through output. A “feel” intention is different. It’s something you choose for you. Not for validation, not for performance, not to meet anyone’s expectations. Others may benefit from it, but it isn’t for them. It’s a way of reclaiming your inner authority — of doing something that doesn’t require permission, approval, or applause. In its own subtle way, it becomes a rebellion against the status quo of your life: a shift from living by demands to living by truth.

Try setting a non-outcome-based goal at the start of your day. Then pay attention to how it affects your choices. Do you pause more? Speak more gently? Let go of something that doesn’t align? These small internal shifts ripple outward, and the more you experience that alignment, the more you begin to trust it.

Intention creates space for essence to lead. It helps you return to yourself before the world pulls you in a dozen directions. And it gently reminds you that presence is something you can practice, shape, and return to, one choice at a time.

It can be the smallest choices that shift your entire trajectory:

• If you want a cozy, romantic life, you begin by creating warmth around you — you light the candles, you clear the space, you make your home feel like it loves you back.

• If you want a life of creativity or beauty, you add colour, you make time to create, you surround yourself with inspiration.

• If you want a life that feels meaningful, you look for ways to serve, support, or uplift — not someday, but today.

This is not about pretending everything is perfect. It’s about deciding to build a life you actually want to live now, instead of waiting for “one day.”

Living in intention is how you stop clinging to the past and start making space for what’s next. The life you’re reaching for needs room to arrive. And you create that room by showing up today as someone who believes it’s possible.

Intention isn’t a to-do list.

It’s a to-feel list.

A to-be list.

It’s choosing, every morning, the energy you bring into your spaces, your work, your relationships, and your own heart. Because when you live with intention, you’re not just reacting to life — you’re shaping it. One choice. One moment. One breath at a time.

What Intention Is Not

Intention is often misunderstood as having good motives. We tell ourselves, “My heart is in the right place,” and assume that should be enough. But good intentions alone do not create alignment. Many people — especially parents, leaders, teachers, and caregivers — believe their role is to improve others. To correct, shape, or refine behaviour so the other person becomes better, more responsible, more capable, more mature. The intention sounds noble. The impact, however, can quietly undermine connection.

Take the example of a parent who is constantly reminding their teenager to clean up shared spaces. The intention may be reasonable and well-meaning: I want my child to learn respect, responsibility, and consideration for others. But when daily interaction becomes a stream of corrections — Why didn’t you do this? Don’t forget that. You need to be better about… — the message the child receives is not responsibility. It’s deficiency.

Over time, they don’t hear guidance. They hear, I’m always doing something wrong. Eventually, the parent wonders why the child stops listening, shuts down, or pushes back.

The issue isn’t the boundary. It’s where the intention is aimed.

Intention that is focused outward — fixing, correcting, improving — often turns into pressure. It keeps attention on what’s missing, what’s wrong, what hasn’t been done yet. Even when love is present, the nervous system on the receiving end feels monitored rather than met.

That kind of intention doesn’t build alignment. It creates resistance. What if the intention shifted from “How do I get my child to do better?” to “How do I want to show up in this relationship?”

The parent can still hold boundaries around shared spaces. Expectations can still exist.“Shared spaces need to be cleaned by the end of the day.” Consequences can still be appropriate.“If they’re not, access to X pauses until it’s done.”

What changes is how responsibility is delivered. The consequence is no longer emotional withdrawal or repeated criticism. It’s follow-through — calm, consistent, and without contempt. Responsibility is taught without attaching shame to identity.

The intention is no longer organized around fixing the child. It’s organized around the parent’s own integrity. For example:“I want my child to know they are seen, valued, and loved — not just corrected.”

This intention doesn’t excuse behaviour. It doesn’t remove responsibility. And it doesn’t lower standards. What it changes is the emotional environment in which guidance occurs.

Rather than scanning constantly for what’s wrong, the parent intentionally notices and names what is good — qualities, strengths, humour, kindness, creativity, resilience. Not as manipulation. Not as praise to gain compliance. But as truth.

The child is no longer experienced primarily as a problem to be managed. They are experienced as a whole person — one who is still learning.

When a child consistently hears only what they’re doing wrong, they stop listening. Their nervous system learns that connection equals criticism. Self-protection replaces responsiveness.

When a child feels fundamentally seen, correction lands differently — even when it’s uncomfortable. Boundaries are no longer heard as judgment of who they are, but guidance about what’s expected. And yes — sometimes, as safety and connection increase, behaviour shifts organically. The child may take more responsibility without being asked. They may engage more willingly. They may care more about shared spaces.

But that is a byproduct, not the aim.

The real work of intention is never about controlling outcomes. It's about changing the relational field — from one organized around constant correction to one grounded in presence, respect, and steadiness.

This is what intentional living looks like in practice: Not perfect behaviour. Not guaranteed results. But choosing, again and again, to act from clarity rather than frustration — and from connection rather than control.

Ways to Return to Intention Throughout the Day

Intention isn’t something you set once and then hold effortlessly. Life will pull at your attention — demands, urgency, other people’s emotions, your own habits. The work is not holding intention perfectly, but remembering to return to it.

The most effective way to do that is to build reminders into the flow of your day — cues that interrupt autopilot without creating pressure. One simple way is to name your intention clearly at the start of the day and return to it as a phrase. Not as something you repeat constantly, but as a reference point you can come back to when you feel pulled off course. A short sentence or feeling-based intention works best — something you can recall quickly when you notice yourself rushing, tightening, or reacting.

Prayer or invocation can also be used simply and practically. A quiet request repeated a few times a day — Help me stay present. Help me respond with clarity. Help me move with ease. — shifts attention from control to alignment.

Another powerful method is to pair your intention with a neutral, everyday cue — something you already encounter repeatedly. This cue doesn’t need to relate to your intention at all.

You might decide:

• Every time you hear a certain word like coffee

• Every time you see a handwritten list

• Every time you notice a specific colour

• Every time someone calls you by name

That cue becomes your reminder. When it appears, you briefly pause and return to your intention. No fixing. No correcting. Just remembering how you want to be.

This works because it trains your attention. Your mind starts scanning for the cue, and in doing so, it stays more engaged with the present moment. You can make this especially effective by choosing a time of day when you’re usually on autopilot. For many people, that’s the drive to work — you arrive without really remembering the journey. If you choose something simple to notice during that time, like a specific colour or make of car, your attention has somewhere to land. Over time, you might be surprised by how often what you look for shows up. It can even start to feel like a wink from the universe, a quiet sense of support.

You can also use technology. An alarm set a few times a day, labeled with your intention or a grounding question, interrupts momentum just long enough to reset. Changing a password to reflect your intention has a similar effect — you physically engage with it multiple times a day without needing extra discipline.

Anchoring intention to existing routines is another effective approach. Choose moments that already happen:

• When you make your first drink of the day

• When you sit in the car before driving

• When you open your laptop

• When you wash your hands

• Every time you open a door or sit down

Each becomes a point of return. You’re not adding more to your life — you’re giving meaning to what’s already there. The key is consistency, not intensity. These reminders are not meant to keep you “on track” all day. They are meant to help you notice when you’ve drifted — and come back without judgment.

Intention strengthens through repetition. Each return reinforces the habit of choosing how you show up. Over time, that choice becomes more accessible than reaction.

That’s how intention becomes lived. Not by holding it perfectly,  but by remembering it often.

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Intention Through Uncertainty

Uncertainty is a natural part of growth, change, and becoming someone new. Yet for many people, uncertainty triggers fear, hesitation, and the urge to regain control. The mind looks for guarantees. The nervous system looks for safety. And when neither is immediately available, intention is often the first thing to disappear.

Living with intention doesn’t require certainty. In fact, intention becomes most important when certainty is unavailable. When you don’t know how things will unfold, intention is what keeps you anchored. It shifts the focus from predicting outcomes to choosing how you move through the unknown — how you show up, what values you lead with, and what relationship you have with the fear itself.

Most people try to resolve uncertainty before they act. They wait to feel ready, confident, or reassured. But clarity rarely arrives first. It develops through engagement. Through choice. Through staying present with discomfort instead of outsourcing your authority to fear, approval, or avoidance.

Intention offers a different orientation. It doesn’t promise control over outcomes. It restores agency in the moment. And from that place, uncertainty becomes less of a threat and more of a terrain — something you can walk through without abandoning yourself.

Use Intention to Find Your Voice

Uncertainty is something we all have to learn to live with. Many people worry endlessly about making the wrong decision—afraid that one misstep will make their life harder than it needs to be. Because there was a time when a choice they made had uncomfortable consequences. And the ego does not like being uncomfortable. It remembers the moment pain followed a decision and quietly vows not to let that happen again.

For some, this fear of choosing wrong runs so deep that even the smallest choices feel overwhelming. Something as simple as choosing a gift for someone or deciding how to respond to a message can trigger hesitation and self-doubt. Every option feels loaded with consequence. Instead of trusting their own instincts, they look outward—seeking reassurance, validation, or approval for every move—hoping someone else can guarantee they won’t get it wrong. Over time, this constant outsourcing of decision-making erodes confidence and reinforces the belief that they cannot be trusted with their own choices.

At its core, this isn’t about indecision—it’s about protecting emotional safety. They want to be able to predict the outcome, to avoid the discomfort of uncertainty. In a convoluted way, indecision becomes an attempt to maintain control. The person who appears the least in control is often the one working hardest to control how things turn out. They don’t trust themselves to handle the consequences of a choice, especially if it doesn’t go as planned. So instead of choosing, they stall. They seek reassurance. They hand their authority to others—because if someone else makes the decision, then they aren’t responsible if it all goes wrong.

Some people will even go so far as to self-sabotage just so they can predict the outcome. Because when control feels fragile, certainty becomes the illusion people cling to—a familiar ending feels safer than an uncertain beginning.

This fear of losing control can make someone gravitate toward those who appear completely certain. The difference between someone with confidence and someone without is simple: a confident person trusts that whatever happens, they can handle it. That trust reads as safety. And when you feel unsure or ungrounded, standing near someone who exudes confidence can feel like borrowed stability.  This is how the loudest voice in the room can gather a following — even when what they’re saying is exaggerated, misleading, or provably untrue.

And this is how large groups of people end up making choices that are not in their best interest. In their search for certainty, they hand their power away.

You often hear the phrase “fake it till you make it.” But that isn’t where true confidence comes from. Some people have learned to project confidence. They can appear strong and fearless, yet on closer inspection, they’re simply echoing the rhetoric of the dominant voice they follow. There’s no discernment, no internal compass—just alignment with the group to avoid the discomfort of uncertainty. The appearance of certainty becomes a shield, allowing them to hide while still looking like they have it all together. Unfortunately, you can’t perform your way into self-trust.

The truth is, clarity isn’t something you have to search for — it’s something you learn to listen for.  It doesn’t require hours of meditation or reading dozens of self-help books.  It can be found by asking one simple question: What is my intention here?

This single question tells you more about alignment than any pros-and-cons list ever could. It reveals whether you’re moving from fear, obligation, avoidance, ego, or genuine truth. Intention is a skill. It becomes clearer the more you practice it. You will learn that clarity doesn’t come from predicting the outcome. It comes from understanding the intention behind the choice. Asking this question before you act, speak, post, commit, or withdraw shifts the focus from control to self-awareness.

Start with the smallest, simplest moments:

• What is my intention for posting this?

  Connection? Validation? Expression? Education?

• What is my intention going into this conversation?

  To understand? To defend? To be heard? To control?

• What is my intention for this family gathering?

  To stay grounded? To protect my peace? To genuinely connect?

• What is my intention for how I spend this hour?

  To numb out? To rest? To nourish something in me?

When you ask this question regularly, even in moments that seem routine—especially in those moments—something profound happens: you build an internal compass. Your intention doesn’t just guide the choice; it changes how you move through the experience. But intention alone isn’t enough. It has to be carried forward through your actions.

When things start to feel off course, it’s often a sign that you’ve drifted out of intention and into ego—reacting instead of responding, defending instead of listening, performing instead of staying present. Intention sets the direction, but it’s the way you act, speak, and adjust along the way that keeps you aligned.

Over time, this practice moves from something you think about to something you feel. You begin to recognize what alignment feels like. You become familiar with your own patterns, motives, and values. And when a big decision arrives, you don’t panic,  because the groundwork is already there. Your system knows how to orient itself.

This is what transforms even the smallest choices. When you’re standing in a store unsure which gift to choose, intention shifts the question from “What if I get this wrong?” to “What am I trying to express?” Care. Thoughtfulness. Presence. The right choice stops being about perfection and starts being about alignment.

Intention turns decision-making from a source of anxiety into a form of self-knowing. It reconnects you to your why. It reveals the truth beneath the noise. And it shows you, gently and consistently, how to choose the path that aligns with who you’re becoming — not who you’ve been.

The more you ask, the easier life becomes to navigate. Not because every choice is perfect, but because every choice is made with intention.

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Be Intentional With Your Attention

In a world that constantly competes for your focus, attention becomes one of your most powerful and most underestimated resources. Where you place it shapes your emotional state, your nervous system, and the environment you live inside every day.

You are responsible for the emotional environment you create for yourself. That doesn’t mean avoiding reality or staying uninformed. It means recognizing that you don’t have to expose yourself to information, conversations, or content that repeatedly unsettles you. If watching the news or scrolling through comment sections leaves you tense, overwhelmed, or physically reactive, that discomfort is your body speaking long before your mind catches up.

Intentional attention is about discernment. It’s the practice of noticing what pulls you out of yourself versus what grounds you in clarity, presence, and alignment. When attention is unconscious, it gets hijacked. When it’s intentional, it becomes directional.

And sometimes, discernment leads to a simple conclusion: this isn’t good for me right now. Not everything needs to be managed, balanced, or consumed in moderation. At times, the most aligned choice is restriction — choosing not to engage, not to scroll, not to participate — because certain content, conversations, or environments consistently destabilize you, pulling you out of intention and into reaction, comparison, or self-protection — or simply aren’t adding any real value to your life.

Attention isn’t just something you give outwardly. It also operates inwardly, through the thoughts you replay, the stories you tell yourself, and the mental patterns that quietly shape how you interpret your life.

Social Media

Social media can be a powerful tool for connection, inspiration, and learning. It offers opportunities to discover new ideas, deepen your understanding, connect with like-minded individuals, and receive support. But too often, it becomes a place to escape. It’s where we go to numb feelings, avoid discomfort, or fill the space that silence and stillness could occupy.

Scrolling can feel like presence — but it’s not. Hours can slip away, leaving you absorbed in content without ever truly engaging. But absorption is not presence. The problem isn’t social media itself, but mindless consumption. If your feed isn’t helping you grow, inspiring new actions, or shifting your perspective, it’s likely not supporting your alignment. Instead, it’s filling space with distraction.

To make social media work for you, it requires intention. Curate your feed to reflect the life you want to build, not the one you’re trying to escape. Be mindful of how the content you consume makes you feel: does it leave you grounded and inspired, or drained and disconnected? The difference isn’t subtle — your attention shapes your inner world, and what you choose to focus on has a profound impact on your sense of self.

Social media should be a tool, not a trap. When you use it intentionally, it can support your personal growth rather than pull you away from it.

News Media

Many people struggle with stepping back from watching or reading the news — not because they want to suffer, but because they don’t want to be the person who “buries their head in the sand.” It may feel like disengaging goes against their values. They want to stay informed. They want to care. They want to contribute. They want to be a person who pays attention.

The intention is admirable. But what is the actual impact?

If you can’t read a headline without your chest tightening, your stomach dropping, or your nervous system going into alarm, you aren’t helping the world by taking in more. You’re harming yourself — and your ability to do anything meaningful with the information.

It might help to ask yourself:

What actually happens after I read the headline?

Do I organize something?

Do I donate?

Do I volunteer?

Do I vote?

Do I talk to my community?

Do I offer a different perspective where it might create change?

Or:

Do I share the headline so others will feel what I’m feeling — overwhelmed, angry, afraid?Do I post to vent but take no further action?

Do I just want company in my outrage, hoping that someone else will take action?

This isn’t about judgment — it’s about offering a different perspective, so you can see more clearly what’s really going on. If consuming the news leads you toward purposeful action, grounded awareness, or collective support, then staying informed aligns with your emotional capacity. But if it only leaves you dysregulated, hopeless, or frozen, then stepping back is not avoidance — it’s wisdom.

You’re allowed to turn it off. You’re allowed to stop scrolling. You’re allowed to protect your nervous system.

And every time you choose what you will or won’t take in, you’re setting a boundary with your energy. Boundaries protect the progress you’ve made and the peace you’re building. Knowing your capacity means paying attention to what you can genuinely hold today and acknowledging when your system is telling you that more information will only do harm, not good.

The Company You Keep

As you align with your values and live more intentionally, something begins to shift: the people and environments that once felt comfortable may no longer feel like home. This isn’t for you to judge where other people for where they are in their journey, it’s to notice who no longer reflects who you're becoming. This is a natural part of personal growth.

Some relationships will evolve, some will naturally loosen, and some will fade. It’s not about cutting people out or rejecting them, but about consciously choosing where you invest your energy. As your life expands, your relationships begin to reorganize. Some people grow with you. Others remain where they are.

Ask yourself:

• Who supports the person I’m becoming, not just the person I’ve been?

• Who expands me, rather than drains me?

• Who inspires me to show up more honestly, kindly, and fully?

• What kinds of conversations am I regularly participating in — and what do they cultivate in me?

Surround yourself with people who nourish your journey. This doesn’t mean creating a perfect circle, but one that supports your growth. By choosing your relationships consciously, you make room for deeper connections that reflect who you are becoming and, in the process, you create an environment that supports your growth and alignment.

Your attention is yours to direct. You don’t need to force relationships or make changes out of guilt. You simply need to notice how you feel in different spaces and with different people. Trust that your internal guidance will show you where to focus and where to let go.

As you continue to shift, the people who resonate with you will naturally align. You don’t need to manage it. Just choose where to place your attention, and watch how your life expands in the direction of who you’re truly becoming.

The Thoughts You Think

Being intentional with your thoughts isn’t about suppressing fear or forcing positivity. It’s about framing — choosing where your attention lives. You don’t stop noticing what’s painful, uncertain, or unfinished, but you do decide whether those experiences get to define what’s possible next.

Just as blaming others keeps you tethered to helplessness, fixating on what went wrong before — or what isn’t working now — keeps you tethered to the past. Blame, in all its forms, takes away your power to choose differently. Attention is directional. Where you aim it shapes not only how you feel, but how you interpret reality itself.

This is where scarcity often takes hold — not because possibility doesn’t exist, but because attention narrows and perspective becomes skewed. Scarcity isn’t just about money or resources. It’s a way of thinking that fixates on what’s missing, what should be there, or what others appear to have — until the sense of “not enough” feels absolute, regardless of what is actually present.

Scarcity sounds like:

• “It will always be this way.”

• “Opportunity is limited.”

• “This is just my lot in life.”

Scarcity isn’t simply fear of losing what you have. It’s a narrowed way of seeing that trains attention on absence rather than reality. A life can contain stability, access, comfort — even privilege — and still feel scarce when attention is consistently directed toward what hasn’t been achieved yet, what hasn’t been acquired, or what should have been possible had the support you believed you earned been received.

This is how perceived lack takes hold. You can see this mindset everywhere. Someone receiving an income that objectively provides stability can genuinely feel as though they’re barely surviving. Headlines about people “struggling” on amounts far beyond what many live on aren’t exaggerations — they’re expressions of a real internal experience. The nervous system doesn’t respond to numbers on paper; it responds to comparison, expectation, and perceived shortfall.

This is why sudden financial gain doesn’t automatically resolve scarcity. Many people who win large sums of money find themselves back in the same. or worse, position over time. Without a shift in attention, the sense of lack simply recalibrates upward. More becomes the new baseline. “Enough” remains just out of reach.

You see the same pattern at the highest levels of wealth. Some billionaires have more money than they could ever spend in ten lifetimes — and yet still hoard it. Still fear losing it. Still invest heavily in protecting it. Still resist contributing in ways that might redistribute the wealth or relieve suffering. Their abundance didn’t make them generous. It didn’t bring peace. It didn’t heal the fear.

Because money doesn’t resolve an unfulfilled heart.

Success doesn’t repair a self-worth wound.

And “enough” externally means very little if internally the belief is still I am not safe or I am not enough.

These patterns don’t form in a vacuum. Scarcity mindset is usually born from something real — loss, instability, unmet needs, periods where support disappeared or resources felt uncertain. At some point, the nervous system learned that there might not be enough — and that belief lodged itself deeply. Even when circumstances later change, the internal orientation often doesn’t.

What begins as a survival response can quietly become a permanent lens. Over time, attention stays trained on what could be taken away, what hasn’t arrived yet, or what others have that feels just out of reach. The body remembers insecurity long after the situation that created it has passed. And without conscious reflection, that memory keeps shaping perception.

This doesn’t negate the reality of true financial hardship. Poverty is real. Systemic inequality is real. But scarcity mindset is not exclusive to deprivation. It exists wherever attention is fixed on absence rather than reality, on entitlement rather than capacity, on what should have been rather than what is.

And until attention shifts, the sense of lack simply recalibrates. Satisfaction stays out of reach. The hole never fills — not because it can’t, but because it isn’t material in the first place.

Scarcity, at its core, is not a measure of what you have. It’s a reflection of what your attention has been trained to protect against.

Intention Redirects Attention Toward Perspective

Shifting out of scarcity doesn’t require proof of what comes next. It requires intention — the decision to look at your situation from a wider, clearer lens. Scarcity narrows your view. It trains your attention to fixate on what’s missing, what’s failing, what isn’t enough. Over time, that narrow focus can start to feel like reality itself.

But it isn’t the whole picture. It’s just one angle.

Intention gently widens that angle. Not to deny what’s hard, but to see more of what’s true.

This isn’t fantasy or escape. It’s perception. Looking through the lens of a different perspective doesn’t mean ignoring circumstances or pretending everything is fine. It means acknowledging reality fully — and refusing to reduce it to only the worst parts. If you’re living beyond your means, perspective doesn’t deny that. It recognizes it clearly, then asks what can be adjusted, supported, or approached differently.

Instead of “Nothing is working,”the question becomes, “What is within my control right now?”

Instead of “There’s no way out,”it becomes, “What haven’t I looked at yet?”

Instead of “I have nothing,”it becomes, “What do I already have that I’m overlooking?”

Perspective reveals options that panic hides. It moves you out of resignation and into response — not by changing your circumstances overnight, but by changing how much of the picture you allow yourself to see. And often, that small shift is enough to show you your next step.

Before anything changes externally, attention changes first .And when attention widens, choice becomes visible.

❖

It’s possible, and even likely, that while reading the previous chapters on perspective and emotional undercurrents, you didn’t connect them to scarcity at all. When lack and shoulds are deeply ingrained, they often feel invisible. They become the water you’re swimming in. It may not have occurred to you that scarcity was being discussed, because it didn’t feel personal. It felt like it applied to something else. Someone else.

What matters is that you are noticing now.

When the question becomes, How do I get out of this mindset?  the answer isn’t to push forward or think your way out of it. It’s to go back. To reread Chapters 9 through 12 through a different lens. Not as insight about patterns in general, but as an exploration of your own.

Scarcity doesn’t dissolve through awareness alone. It shifts when you understand where it came from and why it formed in the first place. Somewhere along the way, a real experience taught your system that there might not be enough, that safety was uncertain, or that you needed to stay vigilant. The work here is not to override that response, but to recognize it and begin creating safety in the present rather than living from an old threat.

This isn’t a quick fix. It’s a reorientation. You are teaching your nervous system that you are no longer trapped inside the conditions that shaped that mindset. And that happens gradually, through attention, honesty, and repeated choices that reinforce stability instead of reinforcing lack.

Scarcity loosens when safety becomes internal rather than conditional. And that process begins by seeing clearly what’s actually been running the show.

❖

It’s Time for a New Story

Emotional breakthroughs can be powerful. Seeing that the story you’ve carried isn’t true can feel like liberation. But it isn’t the end. Emotional release creates space, but it doesn’t rewrite the narrative by itself. The ego doesn’t stop protecting you just because you see the truth one time.  Yes, it loosens, but it has practiced that old story for years.

So now the work is to practice a new one. To choose thoughts that align with who you actually are, not who you became in response to pain. And like anything practiced, it needs repetition — not force, not perfection, just consistency, until the new story becomes as familiar as the old one once was.

The key to telling yourself a new story—one your system will actually believe—is that it has to be felt, not just thought. The body doesn’t respond to affirmations; it responds to experience. This is where imagination becomes useful, not as escape, but as rehearsal. You begin to imagine what could be, and more importantly, how it would feel if it were true.

But imagining alone isn’t enough. A story becomes believable when your actions start to agree with it.

Acting as if you deserve more doesn’t mean pretending to be someone you’re not or living beyond your reality. It doesn’t mean spending money you don’t have, making reckless choices, or trying to force an outcome that isn’t yet supported. That isn’t alignment—it’s avoidance dressed up as confidence.

Embodiment happens through proportional choice. You make decisions that are aligned with the life you’re building at the level you’re actually at. You care for your body because it matters. You protect your energy because it’s finite. You speak to yourself with respect because you’re learning to trust yourself. You choose stability, integrity, and follow-through—not because you’ve “arrived,” but because you’re committed to becoming someone who can sustain what you’re reaching for.

This is how a new story takes root. Not through pretending, but through consistency. Not through grand gestures, but through choices that quietly say, I’m worth taking seriously.

Over time, the nervous system registers the shift. The imagined future stops feeling abstract. It begins to feel familiar. And that’s when change stops requiring force—because your inner world and your actions are finally telling the same story.

Imagination as Meditation

Visualization is a great way to conjure up emotion. It’s letting your body feel who you’re becoming. It’s a way of practicing a new story, not through logic, but through emotion. When you can feel the truth of a different narrative, your nervous system begins to believe it, and belief is what reshapes the way you live.

Close your eyes and feel into the version of your life that feels deeply meaningful.  A life that brings you peace, joy, and fulfillment — the kind that may not seem logical on paper, but feels entirely true in your body.

If nothing stood in your way, what would your life look like? Not the fantasy of yachts and personal chefs — but the life that expresses who you are. The life that lets you use your gifts. The life where your presence matters.

Ask yourself:

• Whose lives would I want to impact?

• What would I build, create, or change that makes someone else’s life better?

• What joy would I bring through the way I show up?

• What do I offer the world when I’m not afraid of being seen?

Wanting a comfortable life is human. There’s nothing wrong with desiring beauty, ease, or abundance. But those things alone won’t give your life meaning. They won’t rewrite your story. A fulfilling life isn’t just what you receive — it’s what flows through you.

When you imagine what your life gives to others, something inside you wakes up. Emotion enters the picture. Purpose comes alive. You feel it — not as fantasy, but as possibility. Purpose creates direction. It asks something of you. Simply picturing a better life doesn’t do that. Imagining the perfect partner or ideal circumstances keeps you in your head. Purpose brings you back into your hands — into what you can build, offer, and change.

Let yourself envision the impact you make.

Imagine the kind of presence you bring into rooms.

Imagine what it feels like to move through life with clarity, compassion, and purpose.

Feel it in your body. That sensation — that fullness — is your new story beginning. Not through “manifesting things,” but through becoming someone who matters to the world simply by being who you are.

What brings you peace in this reality?

What brings you joy in this reality?

What brings you fulfillment in this reality?

How does your life impact others in this reality?

Let yourself feel the warmth of connection, the purpose in service, let the emotions rise. Let it bring tears, tingles, joy, or softness. That sensation—that fullness—is your nervous system synchronizing with the deeper truth of who you are.

Meditation doesn’t have to mean focusing on your breath or being guided by an app. It can be sacred time spent dreaming of a life that resonates with your soul. Start with just 10 minutes a day and see where it takes you.  The more you start to think about this future, the less you think about your old stories.

Something to Note

This practice might have you feeling incredible about what your future holds. And if you’re anything like me, the moment you get even a glimpse of purpose, you’ll want that future to start right now. But before doing anything rash, we need to talk about responsibility and alignment.

When I left my job, I wasn’t responsible for anyone else’s survival. No one depended on my paycheque. I didn’t need to ask for support to cover my bills. I wasn’t placing the consequences of my decisions on someone else. That matters.

The recognition that change is needed doesn’t always come with a clear sign or dramatic moment. More often, it arrives quietly — as restlessness, a heaviness you can’t shake, or a growing sense that something is off. You might find yourself going through the motions, disconnected from what once felt meaningful, or wondering whether the life you’re living still fits the person you’re becoming.

These subtle signals are asking for your attention. A gentle inner nudge asking you to pay attention. And you don’t have to wait for burnout or crisis to justify listening. Wanting more alignment — more peace, purpose, or fulfillment — is reason enough to begin.

Signs You May Be Ready for a Change

• You feel emotionally flat or uninspired in a space that once felt meaningful.

• You’re constantly drained, even after rest.

• You’ve outgrown your current environment but don’t know what’s next.

• You crave more connection, purpose, or authenticity in how you live or work.

• You keep thinking, Is this all there is? What am I missing?

• You’re no longer willing to abandon yourself to keep others comfortable.

This is where you begin. Not with answers, but with honesty. With presence. With a willingness to listen to the parts of you that are asking for more. But feeling is only the beginning. Without intention and direction, change becomes impulse — a reaction instead of a transformation. Once you’ve acknowledged what needs to shift, the next step is to create a plan that supports you, protects what matters, and honours your responsibilities.

Even then, the beginning is often small — a single change, a single boundary, a single habit that slowly reshapes your life. The feeling opens the door, but the plan is what helps you walk through it.

Making Intentional Changes

A different life can’t reach you if you’re not willing to change anything within the one you’re living now. The first step isn’t chasing the future — it’s clearing what no longer supports you.

Old habits. Outdated beliefs. Cluttered spaces. Energetic dead weight. When you release what’s taking up space, you create room for who you’re becoming.

Sometimes that begins with something simple: cleaning out a drawer, getting rid of clothes that no longer feel like you, unsubscribing from what drains you, or finally saying no to something you’ve been tolerating. These tiny shifts aren’t trivial — they’re signals. Signals that you’re ready. That you’re serious. That you’re aligning not just in thought, but in action.

There are a million small ways to begin changing your life:

Different choices.

Clearer boundaries.

New rituals.

Each one is a vote for the future you. Start small, but start — because space creates invitation, and alignment begins with making room.

Make Room Checklist

Simple actions that clear space and signal readiness for your next chapter.

Physical Space

☐ Clean out one drawer, closet, or corner you’ve been avoiding

☐ Donate or release items that no longer reflect who you’re becoming

☐ Make your bed every morning as a ritual of intention

☐ Clear surfaces — especially nightstands, desks, or entryways

☐ Open the windows and let in fresh air + light

Digital Energy

☐ Unsubscribe from emails that drain or clutter your inbox

☐ Delete apps or photos that no longer serve you

☐ Clean up your desktop or phone home screen

☐ Organize files or create digital folders

Mental & Emotional

☐ Name 3 habits or thought patterns that no longer serve you

☐ Reframe 1 limiting belief with a more truthful one

☐ Journal on: “What am I ready to let go of to become who I truly am?”

☐ Release one situation — quietly, without fanfare

Energetic & Ritual

☐ Light a candle, incense, or sage to reset your space

☐ Say out loud: “I am making room for what’s meant for me.”

☐ Visualize stepping into a new life that fits who you’re becoming

☐ Choose a mantra to anchor this next season

Living as Who You Want to Be

You don’t attract the life you want by wishing and hoping. You move toward it by living in alignment with who you want to be now — in the way you speak, the choices you make, the environment you create, the care you give yourself.

This isn’t about striving or self-improvement. It isn’t about working toward some future version of you. It’s about choosing to live from the identity that feels most true, even if your circumstances haven’t caught up yet.

You don’t need proof before you live with intention. You don’t need permission before you treat your life with care.

If you want a life that feels peaceful, choose habits that protect your peace.

If you want a life that feels creative, make space for creativity.

If you want to feel respected, start by respecting your time, your body, your space, your needs.

Small, consistent choices don’t force a new life into existence — they make room for it.

Making your bed isn’t a productivity hack. It’s treating your space like it matters. Dressing with intention isn’t vanity. It’s honouring the body that carries you. Cleaning your space isn’t a chore. It’s shaping an environment where your nervous system can relax.

You’re not waiting to “get somewhere.” You’re choosing to live as yourself now.

When Alignment Meets Possibility

Something shifts when you begin to live in alignment. You’re no longer moving through life on autopilot or reacting from old wounds — you’re choosing your actions, your presence, your values. And when you begin to live with intention, life begins to respond differently.

You feel more engaged in your own story. You notice more. You care more. You show up differently — and the world starts to meet you there.

Ideas start to appear seemingly out of nowhere. Conversations that once felt draining become inspiring. People cross your path at exactly the right moment. Opportunities show up that look strangely like answers.

You might call it coincidence or synchronicity, or the universe opening a door. Whatever you name it, the experience is the same: Life starts to feel like it’s moving with you instead of against you.

But the magic isn’t random. It happens because you’re present enough to notice, grounded enough to receive, and aligned enough to act on what appears. When you’re living from fear or survival, you miss the subtle signals, the opportunities, the connections that could change your life. Alignment doesn’t create miracles — it allows you to see them.

The universe didn’t suddenly start helping you. You finally became available to be helped.

This is the kind of magic that doesn’t ask you to force anything or chase anything. It asks you to live honestly, to act in integrity, and to stay open to what meets you when you do. The doors that open aren’t about luck,  they’re about readiness.

When you begin to live in alignment —not perfectly, not all at once, but intentionally —life doesn’t get easier. It gets clearer. And clarity is what makes room for magic.

A Guiding Question

Each morning, ask:

“If I lived as the person I want to be today, what’s one small thing I would do differently?”

Not a dramatic leap. Just a shift in how you show up. One action that honours you. One choice that aligns with who you want to be. One moment where you decide your life is worth living with intention now.