Short of the Enough Line
- By Shea Adelson
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I am thinking about Gina’s What’s Your Enough Line? (Feb 1st, 2010) conversation as I am preparing my daughter’s bag for a weekend of overnights away from me. I hear my husband say, “That’s enough horsing around now.” And I am feeling like I have had enough parenting today even though they are leaving tomorrow and I’ll be free. I am overfull with this role and I am uncomfortable, as if I’d overeaten.
And it occurs to me: I would rather have less than enough than more than enough. I would rather say less and come away looking quiet, contained, shy even, than loud, ostentatious, too much. I would rather have others indebted to me, to die with the imbalance of having less of the money, time and investment, to have given more and received less. I would rather be early than late. My enough line is thin like the rest of them, but it is stinginess and righteousness that plagues me.
One of the questions Gina asks in Enough Line is What happens to me physically, emotionally and spiritually when I have more than enough? Hmmmm… I feel anxious. More clearly, I feel fluttering in my chest. I feel a heavy sensation, a weight on my chest, on my shoulders. The story I’m spinning has some sense of burden, responsibility, overwhelm even. Have I been keeping myself small – my game, my desires, my stand – to ensure a sense of safety or a perceived sense of freedom?
On the Sufficiency Call I co-lead and participate in I almost always feel as if I have said too much, every time I contribute anything. I am worried that I over did it. I feel lucky for the gift to be able to experiment and take the risk of sharing in a group that is as safe as can be. Too much in other communities – families of origin, a new social group – have the potential to cause some real discomfort.
But is it discomfort I am trying to avoid? What if what Barbara Ann Brennan asserts in her book Hands of Light is true, that discomfort is the access point to healing, to personal growth, to real freedom. I am noticing that I’ve been taking the risks to speak truthfully and taking my time to articulate, asking for help and not reciprocating immediately – and it feels uncomfortable, like I am getting too much. What if these risks and the discomfort they cause are part of the healing process, the opportunity to alchemize my resistance to inching closer to the enough line?
With an ever-changingness, the Enough Line can feel elusive, but it is present tense, born in the moment, emerging in each context. I am curious to make this process exciting, to play with this Line, to come into contact with the experience of being, having and doing enough. And in my case, it might mean asking for bit of more.
