Abundance. What does this word really mean?

The funny thing is, I wrote this blog a couple months ago but completely forgot about it until the topic found its way back into my life. I wanted to share my original thoughts and then add what I’ve learned since, because “abundance” sounds simple, but it quietly shapes so much of how we live.

Back in August, I found myself drawn to the idea of abundance—not in the sense of luxury or excess, but in the quiet ways it shows up in our lives. A couple days after my sister started high school, I took her to Yogurtland to spend some time together before I left for college. On the drive there, a random thought hit me. Why is it that every time we go, we feel the need to get a little of everything? Every flavor, every topping, even though we know some of them won’t taste great together, and in the end it all melts into a mess.

That’s when the word abundance came to mind. Most people, when asked about their goals, say something like financial stability or independence. At its core, that’s abundance too. It’s not excess, but simply enough. Enough to not worry, enough to feel secure. Yogurtland made me realize how easily abundance can blur into overindulgence. I asked my sister, “If you knew we’d come back later this week, would you still get every flavor, or just your favorites?” She laughed and said nothing could go wrong with more Yogurtland—and maybe she’s right. But even too much of a good thing loses its magic. Go too often, and suddenly the novelty fades. You start to savor small servings more, not less.

That’s where my mind drifted back to childhood. My parents raised me so I never felt deprived. It wasn’t about excess, they didn’t spoil me, but when something mattered and I asked with intent, they made sure I had it. That kind of abundance, thoughtful and intentional, shaped me. Because when you grow up without feeling deprived, you don’t spend your life trying to overcompensate.

In college, I began noticing how often people overdo things when they finally get what they once lacked. Friends who never had freedom suddenly stay out every night. People who never had money splurge the moment they can. It feels good at first, but eventually it wears thin. Like eating too much candy—you get sick faster than you think. Even with Taco Bell, no matter how much I love it, I always need a break.

That’s when abundance started to mean something deeper. It’s not about having everything. It’s about knowing that you could but choosing only what you’ll truly enjoy. It’s about security, not excess. Presence, not consumption. Abundance isn’t grabbing every topping or saying yes to every opportunity. It’s recognizing that life will keep offering more, and because there will always be more, we can slow down and savor less.

Now, looking back months later, the meaning has shifted again. During my freshman year, I overloaded myself, with classes, projects, and responsibilities. I told myself it was ambition, but it was really fear. Fear of missing out, of not doing enough, of wasting time. I mistook busyness for purpose. And even now, in my sophomore year, that feeling lingers. My plate isn’t as full, but I still find ways to fill the empty space just to convince myself I’m moving forward.

Earlier this week, I got sick and finally slowed down. For the first time, I let myself rest without guilt. And in that stillness, I realized something simple but powerful: college isn’t a race to fill every moment, it’s a chance to learn what deserves your time. Abundance doesn’t always mean doing more; sometimes it’s about having room to breathe.

With Diwali around the corner, that idea feels even more meaningful. The festival has always been about light, about clearing space for something new to shine through. Maybe that’s what abundance really is: not the clutter of endless options, but the clarity that comes from letting go. Because you can only begin again when something ends.

So as I step into this new season, I want to carry a lighter kind of abundance. The kind that comes not from having everything, but from knowing that what I already have is enough.