I have a friend whom I will call Georgianne, because that is not her name. She is a brilliant and deep human being, whose career was sidelined by Covid. Over the past four years, she has struggled to sort out what her work is. Not how to support herself, but what she should be offering the world. This is a deep question.
During those same four years, I’ve watched as health, relationships, and community have been removed from her life. It’s been a bit terrifying to witness, as I can’t help but imagine how I would respond. Would I be sinking into depression, bitterness, anger? It’s possible: I’m not a saint. The only thing I know for sure is that when your life is stripped, it makes room for something new. As the Japanese poet Muzata Masahide said, “My barn having burned to the ground, I can see the moon.”
Recently Georgianne has seemed to find something new. She’s found a tiny way to offer what she knows to a community that’s hungry for her wisdom. But it’s way smaller than what she did before. Her question, which many of us echo: “Is this enough?”
Life in the bigger world right now sure is tumultuous. Huge forces are at work pulling apart many of the things we have taken for granted. It’s difficult to see what impact any of us could have, as individuals, to make things better. If you want to have any impact, you have to have a platform, get an internet following, say outrageous things. At least that’s what the culture around us says.
Georgianne, in the tiny little corner where she is offering what comes from the deepest part of her heart, is living a paradox. The work she’s doing comes from the most alive part of her, so it feels utterly right. But in the eyes of the bigger world, it’s nothing.
Since time immemorial, people have needed the approval of the pack to survive. But once in a while, someone risks not being safe. Someone steps off the treadmill of common culture and finds a way of living that is fully alive, and true to their deepest self. Judgments and ridicule may rise up but with grace, they can be brushed off or simply dissolved in light of inner wisdom. When someone chooses to be fully alive, they can sense—as opposed to cogitate mentally—that what they are doing is indeed enough. It affects those around them, and ripples outward, who knows how far?
How do we know if something is enough? My rule of thumb is, “Follow the juice.” The most alive part of me is juicy, like a greening plant. Juicy work pulls at my attention. I daydream about it even when I’m afraid to try it. I find myself picking up books, reading articles, having conversations about this juicy thing. I am willing to stretch beyond comfort. I’m willing to look like a fool, if I’m doing my real work.
That’s enough.