Abundance in a Time of Scarcity
Staying locked in when you’re strapped down
If the pundits are to be believed, another recession is coming. Goldman’s odds just went from 35% to 45%. My bank account, a more reliable narrator than any news anchor or investment firm, would tell you it’s been here for a while already. So how do we square the economic realities of the marketplace with a desire to be generous from a position of abundance?
Abundance is having a cultural moment right now, thanks in large part to journalists Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson’s recent book in praise of supply-side progressivism, simply titled Abundance. And while I appreciate the attempt at cornering the market on the term, there’s more to it than policy.
An Age of Abundance vs a Cycle of Scarcity
I’ve approached the concept of abundance as long as I’ve been writing online (23 years?!) in terms of mindsets — having an abundance mindset versus a scarcity mindset (which I probably internalized from Stephen Covey’s writings). Most things aren’t binary, but I’ve had good luck in relationships and work collaborations by gauging whether people operate out of one or the other.
Scarcity Heads give me the ick; Abundance Heads get me excited about the future.
Scarcity-minded people tend to focus on themselves, their perceived competition, and the resources available to them in an isolationist, defensive position. When scarcity-minded folks do manage to achieve success, they typically double down on their defensive positions.
Abundance-minded people focus on opportunities for themselves and others, and the more they practice it, the more they want it for everyone.
Covey’s take was “an abundance mentality springs from internal security, not from external rankings, comparisons, opinion, possessions, or associations.” In my experience, that internal security overflows into their inner circle and wider community, believing that more for the people around them doesn’t equal less for them personally, but precisely the opposite — the more people succeed, the greater chance I will as well. Which fuels my desire to go on the offensive, helping my peers and strangers alike.
Drucker talked about how “effective people are not problem-minded; they’re opportunity-minded.” Simply put, if you believe there are only a finite number of spots, you’re already starting from a defensive position rooted in a problem to be solved. Personally, that’s not how I want to live and show up in the world. And professionally, that’s not the mindset I want in my colleagues and collaborators.
But what about the real world, bozo?
Designers go through groan-inducing cycles of navel-gazing pontification on what design is/isn’t (I’m guilty of it, too) but the one that bothers me the most is the insistence that “design is problem-solving” as if architecture isn’t. Or plumbing, being a short order cook, a homeschool parent, or literally any job on Earth.
Everything is problem-solving, so if design is problem-solving, everything is design. Which is probably closer to true than not, since design is a process of deciding, which describes nearly every process. And round and round we go. But the crux is the “design is problem-solving” crowd rarely acts out of an abundance mentality, which is why I prefer working with the “wouldn’t it be cool if we…” crowd. Because it probably would be cool if we did. And that would likely inspire more people to do more cool things, which benefits more people, and now we’ve got a very cool cycle going on.
So this all sounds good, but easier to say from a position of relative wealth and privilege. We are not a rich family by any stretch of the imagination; I’ll vulnerably admit it’s been a tough few years finacially. But we own a home, two vehicles, and six chickens, and we only go to bed hungry or cold by choice. What happens when things get scarce for real?
How do we believe in and act out of abundance when another recession looms before we’ve gotten our feet under us from the last one? How can you think the world is full of opportunities when 1,000 nearly-interchangeable people apply for every open design position? Or when insane tariffs cause a cascade of issues for small business supply chains that threaten to wipe them out? Or, purely hypothetically of course and not at all related to the last few years of my design career, when inbound leads dry up, the algorithm seemingly turns off your reach like a water spigot, or people maybe stop paying attention to what you’re doing all together?
The test of having an abundance mentality isn’t in the abundance; the test is in the scarcity.
Every day we’re teaching our kids that Blankenships are wise, generous, and joyful. No matter the situation, no matter how hard it is, no matter the circumstances or resources — aim for wise, generous, and joyful. Which is hard when life is hard. Especially, as I’ve said before, in a cultural context that values and incentivizes foolishness, selfishness, and cheap, easy escapism. But if we have generosity baked into our family motto, we better have a good grasp on how to still be generous when everybody gets selfish, starts saving and being practical, hoarding cash, and cutting discretionary spending (which we all know are very wise, rational things to do in a hypothetical recession). We need a lifelong belief in generosity because, and as Mike Tyson so eloquently put it, “everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”
I’d rather die poor than friendless, but I’m not planning on either
George Mack said, “Your personal brand is defined by your weirdness, eccentricities, and irrational behavior.” Generosity in the face of real world scarcity is irrational behavior. It doesn’t make sense when resources and opportunities are in short supply. But we’re defined by doing the things that don’t make sense. That’s what people remember about us. And if I’m going to be defined, I’m going to aim for wise, generous, and joyful. I’m going to aim for “that guy helped me when he didn’t need to, just because he wanted to see me succeed.” Soleio put it well, “[There are] few things more satisfying than helping loyal friends build extraordinary businesses.” There’s a version of this for every sphere.
Ironically (or perhaps poetically), one of the best ways to recession-proof your life is to live interdependently with other people. Which is kind of a core part of being generous, since you have to be in community with people to have an outlet for generosity. Individually we may be lacking, but in community we don’t have to be.
So I choose abundance. I choose friends and community and relentlessly sharing my knowledge, skills, and network with the people I interact with because more humans flourishing is good for human flourishing. I want to live and work and create, knit together with other people who believe in abundance.
The hoarders can fend for themselves.