Estimated reading time: 5 min

Looking at myself today, from this stage where haste has been replaced by perspective, I cannot help but smile with compassion at the young man I was at twenty-seven. I remember perfectly that pressure in my chest, that knot of anxiety telling me I was always late to a goal no one had defined, yet everyone seemed to chase. Back then, identity was forged in pure effort: I fervently believed that security depended on external and shifting foundations, and that personal worth was equivalent to the capacity to accumulate achievements and recognition. I lived in what I now understand as a state of perpetual mental insufficiency, convinced that a piece was always missing to finally reach peace.

At that age, reality was an endless list of fabricated needs. I agonized over finances, not just to meet goals, but out of a constant fear of not being “enough” compared to what I saw in others. That burden became physical one sweltering noon at the construction site; the air was so thick that even breathing felt like hard work. The sensation of “not getting there” materialized right there, amidst the noise of the machines and the dust, feeling like the world was collapsing over a simple cement truck that wouldn’t show up. In the middle of that mental fire, I found myself watching Moncho, my old foreman. He was a weathered man, one of those who raises walls with an economy of movement that looks like a dance. Moncho put down his trowel, wiped his hands on his trousers, and dropped a truth that realigned my bones:

“Look: you’re bitter over the freight that hasn’t shown up, but you’re forgetting that right here in the supply yard you already have the cement and sand to raise what needs to be built today. Stop counting the bricks that aren’t here; use your strength for what is.”

Those words from Moncho broke my cage of threads. I had to stay there for a long while, staring at the bags of cement in silence, letting the dust settle. What I felt that noon as a simple breath of relief, over the years has revealed itself as a law of life: Sufficiency is the absolute rest in one’s own worth. It is a threshold that opens the way to a solid calm that insatiable desire often denies. It is the recognition of the Universal Economy that provides exactly what is needed to unfold one’s vital purpose. By inhabiting this state, the perspective on what it means to “need” is transformed: a certainty emerges that one’s value is not up for negotiation, nor does it depend on what is said outside. Sufficiency is, in essence, inner development; the foundation where one stops searching outside for what already dwells in the center.

From that clarity, the daily work took on a different rhythm. Efficiency ceased to be a race to produce and became the mastery of using one’s gifts to build with others. There is no longer a need to “monetize” every breath; now the compass is to generate real value that improves the lives of those around us, understanding that one’s own balance is woven into the well-being of others within this vast universal web. I learned that efficiency is wisdom in action: the art of utilizing time, energy, and attention to create solutions that lift us all. While sufficiency provides the internal equilibrium, efficiency allows one to be an external creator of value, transforming every task into an act of service that expands the environment for everyone equally.

Today, there is a confidence that the necessary resources appear as one walks in the direction of purpose. The weight becomes much lighter when one stops asking for permission to be. Sufficiency is now a firm center, a steady ground that does not depend on the external weather because it is born from the richness of the inner world and trust in the intelligence inherent in life. It is the freedom to exist without filters, inhabiting existence with the simplicity of one who knows they are complete. One stops being a pawn in someone else’s race to become the author of their own experience—a place of stillness for oneself and for those who cross the path. In the end, what is built with others only makes sense when the internal supply yard is at peace.

To keep from losing the way, these questions remain vital in maintaining lucidity:

• What part of my current worries are real needs of my soul, and which are merely the noise of a system that wants me to feel incomplete?
• If I fully accepted that the support of the Universal Economy is a reality, what courageous step would I take this very day with a quiet heart?
• At what moment of the day am I letting comparison cloud the fulfillment that already dwells in the present?

Thank you for joining me in this reflection and for being there. Sending you a big hug.

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