I recently listened to an audiobook on abundance and one of the questions was, how do we define ‘enough’? How do we know if we have ‘enough’? Several areas where this can be explored include time, love, work, money, clothes, books, music, cars, etc.
Do you have enough? The dictionary defines enough as:
- as much or as many as required: “there’s too much work and not enough people to do it.”
- as much or as many of something as required: “you need to get enough of the right things to eat”.
- to the required degree or extent (used after an adjective, adverb, or verb):”at the time, he wasn’t old enough to vote.”
A quick read suggests the word required is present in each definition. This may be why the opposite of enough, excess, is frequently defined as ‘surplus to requirements.’
How do we define ‘enough’?
Pondering this question led me back to values-based living, although I think cultural elements play a part in defining what, and how much, is enough. I believe those cultures where consumerism is a powerful focus, foster a mentality of ‘more is better’ and promote the notion that enough is measured by material wealth and accumulation. Cultures where resources are scarce, define enough as a capacity for contentment with less, while communal living cultures define enough as the capacity for contribution to the shared
Not an homage to Minimalism
If you sat down with a sheet of paper and a pen and asked yourself how much of what you know, do, or own, is enough, what would be on your list?
My list looked like this:
What I know: will never be enough, specifically in terms of metaphysics and how to shift perceptions to enhance life and living. For me, that is an ongoing work in progress.
What I do: walk, write, breathe, think, meditate, nurture, care, respect, share, drive. After writing this list I decided I do plenty and yes it could be more, but for the most part, I do enough.
What I own or access: car, clothes, books, household wares, music, food, air, petrol, money, laptop.
Lots!
When I look at my list, I have not added the non-material wealth I access regularly: specifically, the communities of family and friends I belong to. Together with material items and non-material items, I have enough.
That said, this article is not an homage to minimalism, but rather an exploration of ‘essentialism’ – the notion of retaining material and non-material items that enhance my life, rather than offloading ballast because it is unnecessary baggage. The Minimalist Podcast reminds listeners that if an item enhances your life, getting rid of it becomes more about austerity than minimalism.
Essentialism suggests we question if what we are thinking about, and spending time focusing on, is about acquiring enough or acquiring surplus to requirements.
Increase versus decrease
So, after assessing my prosperity imagine my surprise when I received a letter from my storage host advising the monthly charge will increase by fourteen percent, coinciding with my next scheduled payment.
My initial disgust at the price gouging evident in this brand’s storage pricing spiraled into panic then sharpened my focus on why I stored household goods while living on the road. Initially, I kept the items in storage for that time when I stop wandering and settle back into a bricks-and-mortar home. That timing is like a piece of string…. I have no date or expectation for if or when it happens.
Over the last few months, I have contemplated letting go of most of my storage items, believing I could fit everything into as little as four plastic tubs. The only times I return to my storage unit are to retrieve clothing for the change of seasons or to locate the occasional kitchen gadget, such as a moka pot or a drip coffee gadget.
I moaned to a friend that if I let go of everything in storage, I would feel like I was ‘free falling’ in life and would be nervous and unclear where the drop zone might be. She thought about it for a moment and said, ‘Instead of thinking of it as freefalling, think of it as freeing yourself – of the cost of storage and of the additional items that require care and storage.’ I knew in that instant the issue was about more than ‘stuff’. Her suggestion offered a form of freedom that made me question my future, particularly whether I would ever find a place to call home again. In doing so, she had unwittingly encapsulated my inner turmoil.
Should I let go of everything material I have accumulated in the last forty years and redefine home and enough? The goods I have are not what defines home. I know that, despite the memories attached to small items such as my special cups that I have not seen or used in over a year.
Until I decide on whether to let go or keep the items in storage, the inner tension of holding onto the past and its memories versus moving forward and living minimally feels like a constant thrumming in my body. It is unpleasant, and the shock of the letter and its possible impact on my choices about ‘stuff’ are reverberating through my psyche.
As I consider what it means to let go of renting a storage unit, and the impact that may have on both my psyche and my wallet, I move closer to understanding what and how much is enough for me. Intertwined in there is my feelings about home and whether I will ever have another home. For now, I will begin the process of removing the ballast.
Who would have thought a letter advising of a rent increase would lead to reflections on whether what I own – or let go of – is enough?
What does enough mean to you?
Originally published on Ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/in_between
Christine Writer 