Picture this: midnight, you’re hunched over your laptop researching “passive income ideas” while your bank balance clings to the negative sign like it’s a life raft. Your feed is a parade of gurus posing beside rented Lamborghinis, and every third reel swears the universe is a vending machine—you just “ask, believe, receive.” You try it. You ask nicely. Nothing. You shout. Still nothing. Maybe the universe is out of snacks?
What if the issue isn’t the cosmic vending machine at all? What if you’re standing in front of it, smacking the buttons with greasy fingers, and the machine can smell that you don’t actually want the candy you ordered? Cash isn’t allergic to you. But prosperity has pretty solid boundaries—it refuses to enter spaces that feel unsafe, unworthy, or downright hostile.
I’m a shaman who’s spent three decades drinking ayahuasca and coaching entrepreneurs in the same 24‑hour span. Trust me, I’ve watched million‑dollar launches tank because the founder secretly feared wealth, and I’ve seen subsistence farmers out‑manifest Silicon Valley by simply aligning with the pulse of giving and receiving. The difference? Abundance blockers—internal tripwires that convince money it’s better off elsewhere.
First, let’s get one myth out of the way: abundance is not exclusively metaphysical. Sure, vision boards and moon water have their place—I’ve taped dream‑house cut‑outs to my fridge too—but unless those images translate into decisions, schedules, and sometimes awkward conversations about fees, they remain fridge décor. This article lives where incense meets invoice: part soul work, part spreadsheet hygiene. If that mix feels scandalous, wonderful. Scandal stirs stagnant waters.
Think of money like a jaguar wandering the forest. A jaguar won’t stroll into your hut if it senses traps, poison, or frantic “Please, please come here!” desperation. But create a clearing—peaceful, respectful, alive—and it may visit, sit by the fire, maybe even stay a while. The five blockers below are the traps littering your clearing. Some are obvious bear‑claws; others are disguised as comfy beanbags. Spot them, disarm them, and watch the jaguar nosing around again.
Sign 1 – You still believe virtue equals poverty
Colonial missionaries told indigenous communities their barter systems were “primitive,” then pivoted and preached that the truly holy must renounce worldly riches. Convenient switch‑up, right? That split‑tongue teaching still slithers in our collective psyche: money is power; power corrupts; therefore, if you’re pure, you must stay broke.
How it sabotages you
-
You underprice because “helping people should be free.”
-
Your throat tightens when quoting fees, so you toss in extras “on the house.”
-
Windfalls vanish: a bonus check magnetically finds the most dramatic expense to swallow it whole.
Case study: I coached a yoga instructor in São Paulo who charged less per class than her manicure cost. She called it “karma yoga.” The real karma was burnout. During a cacao ceremony we traced her belief to her grandmother’s mantra: “Rich people get rich because they step on the poor.” Subconsciously, she’d rather starve than step.
Ancient snapshot: among the Dogon of Mali, blacksmiths were paid in millet, cola nuts, and storytelling rights. Payment was praise, not sin. Meanwhile, medieval Europe’s sumptuary laws punished commoners for wearing “wealthy” fabrics—no wonder our DNA shivers when we stand out.
Practical drill: the Gratitude Invoice. Choose one recent project. Instead of a receipt, send the client an “impact memo” listing three ripple effects their payment enabled—maybe you funded tree saplings or covered therapy bills. Copy yourself on the email. Evidence that money purifies, not pollutes, will start to overwrite ancestral propaganda.
Rite of release
-
Take a sheet of paper and write every negative adjective you subconsciously attach to wealth.
-
Burn the paper safely while saying, “I release borrowed opinions.”
-
Compose a new mantra anchored in contribution: “The more resources I hold, the more rivers I irrigate.” Repeat daily.
Sign 2 – Your give/receive valve is jammed
In nature, stale ponds breed mosquitoes; flowing rivers breed life. Humans forget this and treat money like oxygen: they inhale and forget to exhale, or exhale until they’re dizzy. Both ends create suffocation.
The hoarder profile
-
Feels dread every time the card swipes.
-
Knows exactly how much is in savings but couldn’t name their last pleasure purchase.
-
Equates frugality with safety, yet never quite feels safe.
The leaky faucet
-
Pays everyone else first, including people who never asked.
-
Loans money they can’t afford, labels it generosity, then seethes in silence.
-
Rewards hard work with impulse buys that sabotage bigger dreams.
Story time: rubber tappers in Acre once blocked loggers by forming human chains—holding, holding, holding. They saved the forest but later many died poor because they never diversified income. Moral: preservation without innovation breeds scarcity. Flow demands both containment and movement.
Quick fieldwork: this week, visit a local market with a fixed sum—say, thirty dollars. Your mission: exchange every cent for goods or services that make both parties smile. Notice how negotiation feels when you’re determined to leave empty‑handed yet fulfilled. That’s the exhale you’ve been skipping.
Prescription from the forest
-
Establish the river rule: every incoming amount gets split into four streams—sustain (necessities), sow (investments), share (donations), savor (pure joy). Even if you earn twenty dollars today, allocate cents into each jar.
-
Celebrate outflow. On Marajó we clap after a big purchase—literally applauding circulation. Try it. Eccentricity is cheaper than therapy.
-
Set a generosity timer. Once a week, spend exactly ten minutes giving value online—then stop. Precise exhale prevents hyperventilation altruism.
Sign 3 – You outsource authorship to villains and planets
Newsflash: the economy is always “uncertain.” Empires rise and fall; bitcoin moons and crashes; Mercury goes retrograde three times a year. If your wealth thermostat depends on headlines or horoscopes, you’re not a manifestor—you’re a weather vane.
Symptoms
-
You binge rants about capitalism instead of reviewing your pricing structure.
-
You say yes to underpaid gigs because “it’s tough out there.”
-
Your financial strategy is waiting for election results.
I once sat with a tech founder who blamed every sluggish month on “collective trauma energy.” Meanwhile, his checkout page took sixteen clicks. The trauma wasn’t blocking abundance; bad UX was.
Stoic philosophy taught that external events can’t rob inner wealth. Epictetus was enslaved and still called himself free because his choices were sovereign. Translate that to 2025: you might not set the interest rate, but you decide whether to pitch that proposal today.
Legend says that when Inca road builders hit a landslide, they asked, “What does the mountain need to feel safe again?” Then they acted. Replace blame with dialogue: what does your personal economy need to feel safe? New skill, healthier boundaries, mentorship? Ask, then lay stones.
Shamanic repositioning
-
Perform a power inventory: list everything under your control—skills, network, creativity. Highlight three you’ve under‑utilized this quarter.
-
Craft one micro‑offer leveraging a highlighted asset and launch it within forty‑eight hours. Movement begets momentum.
-
Unfollow three doom influencers. Environment dictates appetite.
Sign 4 – You downgrade your genius to stay relatable
Humility is lovely until it morphs into self‑betrayal. You joke about being “just a small‑town healer,” but reality: you’ve guided hundreds through transformational journeys. Every time you minimize that impact, you send money an eviction notice.
Real‑life heartbreak: an artisan in Belém wove jaw‑dropping baskets but sold them at cost, fearing she’d be labeled commercial. Tourists haggled her down further. End result: she quit weaving. The river lost a tributary.
Psychology 101: we fear pricing ourselves out of the tribe because, biologically, exile meant saber‑tooth dinner. Yet modern tribes admire self‑assured providers. Research from Harvard Business School shows customers perceive higher‑priced offerings as more effective, even when identical.
Upgrade ritual
-
List tangible transformations your work creates—kilos shed, anxiety reduced, orchards planted.
-
Assign each metric a price tag by researching market rates. Your number should respect the miracle you midwifed.
-
Try the Stretch Quote Game: add twenty‑five percent to the price that feels “okay.” Send it before lunch, then leave the house. Silence carries confidence.
-
If impostor syndrome bites, name it: “Ah, the Discount Demon,” and give it pink sunglasses. Humor shrinks monsters; evidence outguns emotion.
Sign 5 – Your altar is polluted
Walk into a ceremonial space and you’ll smell copal, hear silence, see intentional objects. Walk into most home offices and you’ll smell yesterday’s coffee, hear Slack pings, see a shrine to procrastination.
Why it matters
-
Neuroscience links clutter to cortisol spikes. High cortisol narrows creative thinking—the exact faculty you need to generate value.
-
In animist traditions, objects carry spirit. A wobbly chair whispers instability; unpaid bills shout neglect.
Digital clutter counts too. Every unread newsletter is a psychic mosquito. Unsubscribe mercilessly. Create a folder named “receipts & miracles.” Each time money lands—refund, royalty, sold ebook—drag the email there. Open the folder monthly like a gratitude museum.
Environmental hack: switch your desktop background to flowing water or a thriving forest. University of Exeter studies show nature imagery boosts cognition and mood—both tied to earning potential.
Bonus purge: audit your phone apps. Anything that screams scarcity—flash‑sale timers, pay‑wall games—get the axe. Each deletion is a tiny exorcism.
Cleansing rite
-
Choose one abundance portal—desk, wallet, phone. Empty it completely.
-
Wipe, sage, or at least blow on it like an old game cartridge.
-
Return only items that signal wealth—pen of dreams, stone of limitlessness, neat stack of current invoices.
-
Schedule a monthly portal‑clearing. Adulting can be sacred.
I’ve watched clients land five‑figure deals within days of this ritual, not because the universe is Santa but because clarity begets decisive action, and decisive action is catnip to prosperity.
Weaving it all together—your 30‑day abundance reset
Day 1‑3: diagnosis – keep a blocker log.
Day 4‑10: environment & narrative – clear one portal every two days; perform power inventory; mute doom‑scrollers.
Day 11‑17: flow practice – apply the river rule; applaud outflow.
Day 18‑24: pricing reclamation – draft new pricing; rehearse numbers until eyebrows stop twitching.
Day 25‑30: commitment ceremony – under a moon, declare new wealth intentions and pour water on the earth as reciprocity.
Optional advanced move: coop ceremony. Gather three friends, share blocker confessions around a flame, witness each other, then bury symbolic contracts to mark the old pattern’s funeral. Collective witnessing adds jet fuel to personal vows.
Further resources
If you’re hungry for deeper dives, start here:
-
“The Soul of Money” by Lynne Twist – a heartfelt exploration of sufficiency and stewardship.
-
“Happy Money” by Ken Honda – lessons from Japan on blessing every coin.
-
“Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer – reciprocity with Earth; substitute dollars for sweetgrass and note the parallels.
-
Podcast “Sounds of the Amazon” episode 12 – a rubber‑tapper‑turned‑entrepreneur on shifting from survival to surplus.
Remember, theory without practice is spiritual entertainment. Pick one resource, apply one idea this week.
Epilogue—Let the river through
Abundance isn’t a finish line; it’s a pattern of relating. Money is an amplifier: in kind hands it plants forests; in fearful hands it builds walls. One morning soon you’ll open your banking app and feel a flicker of delight instead of dread. Maybe it’s an extra fifty bucks, maybe fifty thousand. Numbers matter less than the conversation: respect, circulation, partnership. The jaguar has padded into your clearing, calm, unthreatened. Feed it trust and it will guard your home.
Your 2,500‑word expedition ends here, but the real trek begins when you close this tab. The river is humming beyond your front door, waiting for the first stone you’ll move today. Whether it’s deleting a scarcity app or quoting the Stretch Game price, do it before bedtime. Momentum loves a good head start.
If you need a mantra for tough mornings, borrow this Yoruba proverb: a river does not refuse to flow. Unblock, breathe, circulate. I’ll see you on the riverbank—coffee’s on me, and yes, I’ll let you pay next time.
View this post on Instagram
