Generosity from above

This enormous mango tree in front of my house—this is abundance. Not the concept. The thing itself.

I gaze at it. I spend time with it. I'm trying to learn what it knows.

The mangos are ripening now, yellowing from green. Each morning I climb to the fourth-floor roof with an enormous stick and pull them down. I lost the carrier bag that was attached to it, but they still come off.

This morning I checked below—no one there. Mangos fell. And the moment they hit the ground, a kid appeared. He started collecting them. Then he looked up at me and waited.

I knocked more down.

This is it.

This is how I want to be.

Knocking generosity out of myself from somewhere above. And when someone shows up to receive it, not stopping. Abundance pulled out from every corner.