When is it Enough?
Finding the courage to say I’ve written enough. I am enough.
It’s been a long week.
I cried a lot. I wrote a lot.
But the words are not yet words to share. They are words for processing, not publishing.
Still, a piece of me wants to publish.
Another piece of me says that I’ve written and published a lot over the past 53 days. When is it enough?
When do I say I’ve done enough. I’ve written enough. I am enough.
I’ve never believed in the value of churning out a blog post every day. I’ve always preferred quality over quantity. And yet somehow I grabbed onto the prevailing belief that publishing daily is better.
After 53 days I still don’t believe that daily publishing is necessary. Or even helpful.
Who really needs to read more?
If anything, I’m coming around to the belief that I write too much. Maybe I need to do less writing and more being.
Sitting in reflection, instead of writing as reflection.
Where do I draw the line and say, enough writing?
I don’t have a clear answer.
I still have much to say.
But tonight I don’t want to write. Tonight I want to be. I want to sit and stare into space. I want to practice the art of doing nothing.
No podcasts. No books. No television.
I just want to sit and be, and receive. I want to let my mind wander.
Writing may be done while sitting still, but it’s not stillness. I can’t hear the wisdom when I’m writing.
It’s time to take a break. To pause. To be. To listen. To receive.
I don’t need to prove myself with another article or another post.
It’s time to take a stand.
I am enough. I have done enough. I have written enough.
For how long?
I’ll evaluate that tomorrow.