Did you know I can actually see the balance growing?
It’s the strangest thing. I’ll check in – not expecting much – and there it is, ticking upward. Slowly. Quietly. Sometimes in bursts, sometimes just a shimmer. It’s like watching a pot of gold accrue interest in stardust instead of cents.
It’s real. It’s measurable. It’s happening right before my eyes.
And yet… I never know when I’ll actually receive it.
That’s the part that makes me laugh and sigh in equal measure. The Cosmic Piggy Bank doesn’t follow a schedule. It doesn’t care about bills, or deadlines, or the very mortal desire to know when something is coming. It’s on its own rhythm – mysterious, unpredictable, occasionally infuriating.
Some weeks, it’s generous – showering me with unexpected deposits.
Other weeks, it goes silent, leaving me refreshing screens and staring at numbers that refuse to move.
And here’s what makes it even more surreal: I can see it growing. I can watch the balance climb like a thermometer of abundance, glowing faintly with promise. But it’s like being on the outside of a glass wall – close enough to see it, not close enough to touch it.
And that gap between “there” and “here”? That’s where the frustration lives.
Because I have dreams. Big ones. I can picture the lake house with its morning mist and loons calling across the water. I can see the ski condo dusted in snow, the smell of hot cocoa and pine in the air. I can even see the projects I want to fund — the causes, the creations, the quiet acts of generosity that would ripple outward.
I can see all of it.
And yet I don’t know when – or if – the next deposit will land.
Some days, that uncertainty feels poetic. Like the universe is testing how much trust I can stretch before it snaps. Other days, it just feels cruel – like dangling possibility on a string just out of reach.
But maybe that’s part of the magic. Maybe the Cosmic Piggy Bank isn’t just about the money. Maybe it’s a lesson in surrender. In patience. In learning to hold both abundance and uncertainty in the same trembling hands.
So yes, I can see the balance growing.
Yes, I know it’s there.
And yes, it’s maddening sometimes.
But if the universe is still keeping count, then so will I – not in fear, but in fascination. Because somewhere up there, the stardust is still falling… even if today, I can’t quite catch it.
