Quiet Lineage: Abraham Hicks
Focus, Momentum, and Letting Ease Lead
A Note Before You Read Further
This album carries the influence of Abraham Hicks in a simple, everyday way.
Abraham didn’t enter my life as doctrine or philosophy. It entered through relief. Through the feeling of things loosening instead of tightening. Through permission to stop wrestling every moment into shape.
Nothing here asks belief.
Everything here begins with attention.
Read on only if curiosity pulls you.
How Abraham Entered My Life
Abraham felt mind-blowing and obvious at the same time.
The first thing that landed for me was an invitation to notice how thoughts feel — and to choose again when they pinch.
I didn’t suddenly become good at it.
I still fumble my words.
I still catch myself being sharp with myself.
I still focus on what hurts longer than I mean to.
Abraham doesn’t promise perfection. It offers practice.
Going General
One of the biggest shifts for me came from learning to go general.
When something feels heavy or stuck, Abraham suggests backing up to a softer thought — something easier to hold. Something already true. Something that gives the body a little space.
Sometimes it looks like appreciating small things:
warm coffee
my kid’s laugh
sunlight on the floor
petting a cat
thinking about what IS going well, rather than what isn’t.
Sometimes it looks like daydreaming.
The Airbnb Thing
This is one of my favorite examples.
My husband and I used to sit down and just look at Airbnbs. No plan. No money lined up. Just curiosity.
“Oh, this one’s pretty.”
“That one looks cozy.”
“Wouldn’t that be fun?”
We weren’t trying to manifest anything. We were just enjoying the feeling of imagining.
And then — eventually — we’d be booking a trip.
That taught me something important: momentum builds through enjoyment, not pressure.
Abraham helped me see that wanting something doesn’t require proving you deserve it. You can let yourself want because wanting feels good.
Thoughts as Practice
Abraham taught me that thoughts are not harmless background noise.
They shape experience.
Not in a magical, instant way — but in a directional way. Thoughts point the body somewhere. They lean you toward ease or toward contraction.
That understanding changed how I relate to language.
It’s why BYRDS carries repeated phrases.
It’s why certain lines return again and again.
It’s why the songs speak toward something rather than circling what’s missing.
Focus matters.
Why you want something matters.
How it feels while you think about it matters.
Pinching Off (and Laughing About It)
One of the most human things Abraham offers is the idea of “pinching off.”
Focusing on lack.
Replaying what went wrong.
Telling the old story again.
I still do it.
I just notice faster now.
Instead of scolding myself, I try to soften the thought. Or I laugh. Or I pivot to something neutral. Or I stop thinking altogether and pet the cat.
That counts.
Abraham Lives in the Songs
Abraham hums under BYRDS quietly.
In momentum.
In orientation.
In lines that point forward without demanding certainty.
Songs here ask:
What feels better to think right now?
What direction does ease move?
What happens when I stop arguing with the moment?
That influence helped me write without forcing meaning. The songs followed feeling first.
How I Work With These Teachings
Abraham Hicks is not my authority.
It’s a voice that helped me trust relief. I listen. I try things. I notice what feels lighter. I keep what helps. I leave what overwhelms.
The more I learn, the less I feel I know.
Knowing less has made me kinder.
Curiosity replaces control.
Pain becomes information.
Play is allowed.
Why This Belongs in BYRDS
BYRDS tracks movement.
From witnessing → to softening → to appetite → to listening → to hope.
Abraham helped me understand that momentum doesn’t come from effort. It comes from alignment. From enjoying the thought you’re holding right now.
That teaching let this album arrive without struggle.
About This Being A Series
This blog reflection forms one part of a three-part series naming my primary influences:
Each will receive its own space, its own care, its own unpacking. BYRDS felt like the honest place to begin because the source material already lives here.
A Closing Word
I’m still practicing.
I still change my mind mid-sentence.
I still catch myself halfway through a spiral.
I still choose again.
Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.
🪶
May your next thought feel a little softer.
May ease show you the way forward.
May you enjoy the imagining.
