Preparing for our departure tomorrow for 3 weeks in the backcountry of Algonquin, paddling and portaging in wilder places, I pinpoint a source of my dis-ease. I keep thinking I need one more thing (how about a tiny magnifying glass for the small print on the maps?) and then one more thing (some poems to help me quiet?) , fearful as I am that something vital will be forgotten, that I will need something that I don’t bring. Of course, I can’t carry it all, plan for every contingency.

This realization has bubbled up a lot in me lately. In this world of so much abundance, so many choices, so much accessibility, so much ‘on demand’, I can be led to believe that just ‘one more thing’ will give me what I need, or that I need to do one more thing to be worthwhile, valuable, loved or even okay.

One more affirming book to stuff on my shelves or into my mind. One more blog, one more poem, one more pair of socks, one more gadget on a potential new car, one more class, one more friend, one more experience, one more reassuring visit or phone call or text.

But my mind is full- enough. My home is full- enough. I have done enough. My pack is full- enough. I have everything that I need.
I am enough.

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