What if it were enough?

What if the house was clean enough, the kid was appropriately stimulated enough, I was doing enough and being enough, the bank account levels and the intimacy levels and the friendship levels and the service levels were enough?  

What if my eating habits and working habits and inflows and outflows and all of it were enough to … satisfy? To delight? To provide that external, seemingly objective answer to the booming questions:  What am I doing here?  Why do I exist? Am I safe? Will I be safe tomorrow? Am I okay? 

And I forget that the primal-type longing for reassurance, validation, and security that flares up in me is not satisfied by these externals.  Which is not to say that they’re irrelevant or unimportant.  Just that they aren’t a great vehicle to getting that feeling of okay-ness I want.  The feeling of okay-ness I get to cultivate even in the face of so much uncertainty and fear.  Good news, bad news, it’s an inside job.  I’m gonna keep going. 

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