Embodying a Feeling of Enough-ness

Every now and then, a journal entry comes together into something resembling decent prose worth sharing. I hope that this message, written to myself, can act as a guide for someone else as it does for me.

I am enough. I have enough. 

Can you embody that? 

What would that feel like? Describe it in detail.

It would feel freeing. Relaxing. Calming. Empowering. Liberating. Grounding. 

It would feel like love and acceptance. For myself and for others. 

It would be easier to recognize cravings — to practice mindfulness with them, and let them pass when they come up.

I’d really pause before accepting new things or adding new things in my life. I’d pause and ask myself, do I really need this? Where is this desire coming from? 

And I’d probably be a little more minimal overall.

I’d trust my intuition more about my intentions being good. Not questioning the ethics of my intentions quite so much. Believing and trusting more that they’re good. Good enough.

I’d feel a sense of JOMO (the joy of missing out). Of okayness with being quiet. Of hanging and having a quiet holiday weekend to myself while my friends are out living their lives.

I’d feel like, I’ve seen enough live music for one lifetime. I’ve traveled and surfed enough for one lifetime. I’ve gotten to really see and live alongside my friends and loved ones.

At this point, any more of these things I so love is just icing on the cake. A cherry on top.

I’d feel less of an urge to look at my phone for texts back from people. And let go of needing to craft perfect texts. 

I might shoot from the hip a bit more. 

I’d accept that, no matter how much I don’t want the feelings of not being enough, and of not having enough to come back, that they will. 

That they’ll come up over and over and over again. 

And that each time, I can simply remind myself of this. I can journal it out. Meditate. Exercise. Take a cold shower. Go for a walk. Go for a hike. Get in the ocean. Hang out with friends. 

Let the desires and yearnings and cravings subside. Just live and let my mind change. Let things evolve. Like they always are.

It would look very patient and accepting.

I’d be ever-aware of the hedonic treadmill.

I’d be, to an extent, embodying a small amount of “the one who knows.”

Fear of life and death would soften in its intensity.

Less worry would equate to more presence. And a richer, fuller-feeling life.