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 thinking.
No writing.
No reading.

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.