Tag Archives: enough

I Am Enough


I am enough.
I am enough?
I am enough!
What a relief.
I don’t need a man to take care of me,
I don’t need a man to make me feel loved,
I don’t need a man to keep me safe,
I don’t need a man to validate my existence.
I am enough.
I can take care of me.
I can love me.
I can keep me safe.
I exist. No need for validation. I exist.
I am enough.
I am enough!

Today Was Enough


I was thinking
I was going to get more done today
and suddenly
I was paralyzed.
With fear, with anxiety,
with self-criticism.
So, I did what any
self-respecting individual would do
under the circumstances…
I read a book.
The book is called
Living Your Truth
by Kamal Ravikant.
I felt better.
I took one step,
then another.
I went grocery shopping.
I tidied up the house
a little bit more,
took care of some phone calls
and correspondence.
I breathed.
I remembered to repeat
I love myself.
When the kids got home,
I was calm,
and managed to stay (mostly) calm
through homework.
Dinner was beautiful,
and afterwards,
my kids—of their own accord—
had an art moment!
It was…glorious to see them
happily working away
while I tidied up after dinner.
They’re still making art
and here I am writing this poem.
I was thinking
I was going to get more done today,
but I realize now,
today was enough.

This Is Enough


What is enough, really?
Let’s ask ourselves this question,
this practical, necessary question.
Because if we can’t identify
what enough is,
if we don’t know what
we are looking for,
we’ll never find it.
Imagine searching
your whole life
as a hungry ghost,
always searching
for more more more,
never discovering enough.
Enough is freedom.
Enough is safety.
Enough is peace.
Try this:
Breathing in,
silently repeat
This is enough.
Breathing out
silently repeat
I am enough.
Really sense the truth
in these words.
Really feel and know
this moment is enough
and you are enough…
but only if you want to be
happy and free.

No More


My mind says “more” is the answer.
More money.
More time.
More rest.
More companionship.
More attention.
More food, more fun, more friends.
More understanding.
More patience.
More sunshine.
More travel.
And here’s my favorite,
after a year of celibacy—
more sex.
But the truth coming from my heart is
this is enough.
All of it.
I have enough money, enough time, enough rest.
I get enough companionship, enough attention.
I have enough food, fun and friends,
enough understanding,
enough patience,
enough sunshine,
enough travel.
Now, because I haven’t had any in a year,
it’s a stretch to say
I have enough sex
but you know what?
Celibacy won’t kill me…
I am living proof.
So maybe, just maybe,
I can let “enough” be my mantra.
Enough. Enough. Enough.
I have enough.
I am enough.
Life is enough.
What will I say to my mind
when it argues with this?
No more.

Something is Enough


I set out to write something witty and brilliant
and the words elude me.
My brain is tired and protests
any probing into its depths
to yank out the perfect word
in some memory bank tucked far away
beneath the piles of laundry in my bedroom
and dishes stacked in the sink.
Ah yes, I remember now,
I don’t have to be good.
I am a human being,
and this is enough.
With the pressure off,
I don’t need to write something witty and brilliant,
I don’t even need to write something passable.
I just need to to write something.
And something is enough.

This is Enough


The point isn’t to understand.
It isn’t to judge, analyze,
or become anything in particular.

Just to be present for whatever arises,
to bear witness to this being,
this is enough.

You don’t have to understand a thing;
this attempt at grasping what cannot be grasped
pulls you farther and farther away
from who you are now.

And there certainly
isn’t anything wrong with you,
so you can quit trying so hard
to be a better person.

Just to be here,
to notice when you’re breathing,
to notice when you’re thinking,
to notice when you’re being–
this is enough.

This Can Be Enough


and my body says,
Hey woman, get in bed already.

But I have this writing practice,
and I want to allow the words to come.

I wait for something beautiful,
inspiring, meaningful.

I wait for some kind of amazing insight,
some wisdom from beyond.

But it’s late,
and I’m tired,
and my body is telling to get in bed.

Maybe there is something profound
in this listening to my body.
Maybe I don’t have to make these words
better than they already are.

Maybe for once this can be enough.