Terry Helwig's Blog - Posts Tagged "scarcity"
Scarcity Versus Abundance Via Twitter
I always seem to be learning one of life’s many lessons. Currently, the lesson is scarcity versus abundance, and it came to me through an unlikely source—Twitter.
I’m fairly new to Twitter. Before sending out my first tweet several months ago, I read up on Twitter etiquette and recommendations. I learned one tweet a day is too few, two is mediocre, and three is “just right.” As a tweeter, my job is to engage my followers (I had three at the time), find my niche, and talk more about other things than myself. Also, one should tweet a picture periodically. Under no circumstances is the picture to be of one’s lunch unless it’s mega unusual or food is the tweeter’s niche.
What could be simpler? Right? Wit, charm, humor, and newsworthy posts in 140 characters or less. My first tweet took me a few minutes to write and an hour to edit. Condensing 280 characters into 140 that still make sense is nigh impossible. As Pascal said: I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.
As I became more adept at briefer tweets, I feared my Twitter cupboard might soon be bare. What if I were reduced to snapping a picture of my lunch? Tweeting was new to me, but the feeling of scarcity was uncomfortably familiar. To help assuage my worry, I started a Twitter file to stockpile newsworthy items for future tweets.
It doesn’t take a therapist to see that this urge to stockpile tweets reveals an overall lack of trust in abundance. It’s as if I think the universe is a finite place where creativity runs dry, news becomes extinct, and epiphanies disappear, leaving me—horrors—destitute and tweet-less.
One glance into the natural world reveals that the universe is a virtual stockpile of abundance. How many people, seeds, stars, galaxies, grains of sand and butterflies exist? Should I rush out to collect sand from the beach today because it might be gone tomorrow? Of course not. But if the sand were exchanged for creative ideas, I might start hunting for a jar.
As unlikely as it seems, tweeting, for me, has become an exercise of trust in creative abundance. Creativity, like the beach, cannot be hoarded or stored. Our job as writers, tweeters and lovers-of-life is merely to show up each day trusting that the beach is still there.
I’m fairly new to Twitter. Before sending out my first tweet several months ago, I read up on Twitter etiquette and recommendations. I learned one tweet a day is too few, two is mediocre, and three is “just right.” As a tweeter, my job is to engage my followers (I had three at the time), find my niche, and talk more about other things than myself. Also, one should tweet a picture periodically. Under no circumstances is the picture to be of one’s lunch unless it’s mega unusual or food is the tweeter’s niche.
What could be simpler? Right? Wit, charm, humor, and newsworthy posts in 140 characters or less. My first tweet took me a few minutes to write and an hour to edit. Condensing 280 characters into 140 that still make sense is nigh impossible. As Pascal said: I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.
As I became more adept at briefer tweets, I feared my Twitter cupboard might soon be bare. What if I were reduced to snapping a picture of my lunch? Tweeting was new to me, but the feeling of scarcity was uncomfortably familiar. To help assuage my worry, I started a Twitter file to stockpile newsworthy items for future tweets.
It doesn’t take a therapist to see that this urge to stockpile tweets reveals an overall lack of trust in abundance. It’s as if I think the universe is a finite place where creativity runs dry, news becomes extinct, and epiphanies disappear, leaving me—horrors—destitute and tweet-less.
One glance into the natural world reveals that the universe is a virtual stockpile of abundance. How many people, seeds, stars, galaxies, grains of sand and butterflies exist? Should I rush out to collect sand from the beach today because it might be gone tomorrow? Of course not. But if the sand were exchanged for creative ideas, I might start hunting for a jar.
As unlikely as it seems, tweeting, for me, has become an exercise of trust in creative abundance. Creativity, like the beach, cannot be hoarded or stored. Our job as writers, tweeters and lovers-of-life is merely to show up each day trusting that the beach is still there.
