“Enough” is radical. It’s everything Western culture teaches us to crave, and simultaneously, everything we are never supposed to let ourselves have. It’s commonly associated with quitting, stopping, stagnating, “letting yourself go” or even achieving the highest success. Living from a place of enoughness means choosing to be driven forward by something other than ambition, greed, envy, or restlessness.
“Enough” is a scary concept. It feels like pushing a plate away that still has half a slice of pizza on it. Risking waste. Or sitting still, risking boredom. Or deciding to make out with only one person for the rest of your life. Or making a meal out of scraps from your fridge and cupboard when you had planned to go out to a nice restaurant. Or wearing the same pair of shoes over and over again until the soles start splitting. Or calling the first house you bought “my house” instead of “my starter house.” Or drinking only one beer. Or never going on “a diet” or “a cleanse.” Or letting your roots grow out. Or not going back to grad school for another degree. Or driving the same car for longer than a decade. Or passing on an offered slice of cake because your stomach doesn’t want it. Or not trying to impress a new friend. Or staying home to catch up on your favorite show instead of going out for drinks. Or staying in your hometown instead of moving someplace more exciting. Where is the line between complacence and enough? What happens when I say that I have enough–in my body, in my life? What happens when I take a break from chasing novelty and newness? Do I flatline, do I thrive, or do I end up somewhere unexpected?