The home-cooked menu I grew up with consisted largely of deep-fried, ham-hocked, swimming-in-butter deliciousness. I can throw down on some fried chicken, sausage biscuits, green bean casseroles, and cheesy grits. Not that there’s anything wrong with some cornbread and butterbeans now and then - but for the sake of treating my heart with a little more compassion, and offering my Philly wife a bit more variety, I’m determined to cook… well, better.
As much as I love online recipes from sites like Preppy Kitchen, Recipe Tin Eats, and my current fave, Erin Jeanne McDowell, the onslaught of ads on most sites (except Erin’s) zaps my energy. So, recently I set out for a real, live bookstore, one of the few still open here in Singapore.
Inside the Kinokuniya bookstore, surrounded by rows and rows of cookbooks from kitchens around the world, I spotted at least a dozen books from my ever-growing wish (want) list. Ooo, there’s that gorgeous one by Samin Nosrat. They actually have the Moosewood Cookbook?!? Oh my, the Ottolenghi books, with all those delicious photos. Wait, would it be appropriation for me to start cooking Indian food at home? I want all the books!
If you’ve been hanging around my blog for a minute, you know I’ve been trying to slow down and notice when I experience the sensation of wanting. I’ve made it a spiritual practice to touch one or more of my prayer beads, allowing the feeling of wanting to rise and fall, sometimes filling the desire and other times allowing it to pass.
Then the other day, when I was talking with some friends about playing the tape forward to see if a want is worth giving in to, one wise friend said that she has recently shifted to noticing when she experiences the sensation of enough.
Wait, what? You mean focus on what you hope to cultivate rather than what you hope to curtail?
I swear, the beads on my necklace are going to be dust before the month is out.
After at least an hour of lurking in the bookstore, I chose ONE book to support my slicing and dicing journey: Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat by Samin Nosrat.
Back in my own kitchen, what I’m learning is how to know when I’ve added enough. Nosrat explains in exquisite and clear detail how to know each element well - how to look, listen, taste, taste again, and wait for what a dish needs, and just as importantly, when it needs nothing more. The book is a gorgeous example of how to recognize the moment when something is enough.
And this brought to mind an old saying: Enough is as good as a feast.
It is a proverb appearing as “suffisaunce is as good as a feast” in The Canterbury Tales that I am experiencing these days as an invitation to recognize enough for the sake of freeing myself from the grip of always wanting more.
Yes, and there’s another way to look at enoughness.
When Enough is Enough
I’d been lying on the table for about two hours when I noticed I was clenching my teeth. Up until that moment of noticing, I’d been as relaxed as one can be with the feeling of a thousand tiny bees stinging their way around the fine lines of new artwork emerging on my body.
I’ve been asked dozens of times, “Did your tattoos hurt?” to which I always respond with a peppy little YEP. This is pain I’ve signed up for seven times now. Each time I settle into the chair or recline on the table, I expect and am friends with the pain. I’ve given birth, au naturel, y’all, so, in comparison, it’s not really pain at all. But, one hour gives way to two, and the nerves go from screaming to numb to exhausted.
When the young artist finished, he asked if I’d like him to touch up my old tattoo around which the new ink had been added. As much as I wanted the colors replenished, my clenched teeth were definitely telling me I’d had enough.
Our bodies tell us when something is too much. Too much food, too much drink, too much sun, too much fun, too much work, too much togetherness, too much alone time, too much giving, too much taking, too much suppression of righteous anger, too much complicity in the suffering of others, too much numbing…
When we listen to our gut, I mean really listen, enoughness emerges in the body, mind, and spirit. (And climate change is how the earth is telling us enough already).
Maybe we can act on what our embodied experience is telling us.
A new pair of shoes? No thanks, I have enough shoes right now.
Another order from that online megastore? Nah, I have enough stuff.
One more slice of cheesecake? No thanks, I’ve had enough.
Another drink? No thanks, I’ve really had enough.
One more argument? Nope, I’ve had enough.
Ignore that racist comment? Hell, no. I’ve had enough.
Stay in a church that expects me to stay closeted? No sir, I’ve had enough.
Enough is not the enemy of plenty. It is fertile ground where abundance flourishes, not just for me, but for all beings.
Enough taught me when it was okay to have one more pour and when it was time to place a hand over the cup. When to breathe through the pain, and when to tap out. When to keep working on toxic relationships, and when leaving would be the truest way of returning to myself. When to be a bridge builder - and when to tear the whole damn thing down.
But now I’ve droned on long enough.
This week, I hope you can practice noticing every time the sensation of enough arises.
Enough food. Enough scrolling. Enough solitude. Enough togetherness.
Let that personal enough become both a place of rest and a seed of curiosity, inviting you to foster enoughness wherever you can.
Enough perpetuating fear. Enough tolerating billionaires. Enough permitting the patriarchy. Enough ignoring racism. Enough celebrating war. Enough feeding facsim. Enough numbing the ache.
I wonder what changes will take root if we can stop hoarding, start listening, and turn toward the good news that there really is enough love, liberty, and yes, justice FOR ALL.
One of my repetitive journal entries...I. Am. Enough. Good reminders in your writing here. Thank you.