And we begin.
Me: So, you’re my blog.
My blog: Yes.
Me: I wish you had a name I could call you.
My blog: Okay. Pause. If I think of something I’ll let you know.
Me: Isn’t it a little weird that we hang out six times a week and I’ve never asked you if you have a name?
My blog: Not really.
Me: I have some questions for you.
My blog: Yes, I gathered that when I read the title of the post. Thanks for letting me know it wouldn’t be too long.
Me: Right on. Can we start?
My blog: Go for it.
Me: Sometimes I have so many things to write about here that it hurts. Bursting! My hands hurt from scribbling ideas. And other times I don’t know what I want to say. And all those scribbled ideas just get on my nerves.
My blog: What’s the question?
Me: Well, I wonder why that is. I don’t really understand what’s going on there.
My blog: You’re not asking permission to write a post about not wanting to write a post, are you? Because we don’t do that.
Me: No. That’s not really my style either. It’s more like, I want to know as much as possible about you and how you work, so I can solve this problem myself. Right now I’m just collecting information.
My blog: Okay. What do you want to know?
What do you know that I don’t know?
Me: What do you know that I don’t know?
My blog: A lot.
Me: I thought as much. Are you going to share any of it?
My blog: Listen.
Me: I’m listening.
My blog: Okay.
You don’t know how comforting it is to people that you don’t have all the answers.
You don’t know how reassuring it is for them that you work on your stuff in public.
You don’t know what it’s like to encounter a wizard and go ohohoho ohhhhh a wizard.
Me: You mean like what Isabel said? About how every time she goes to my blog she runs away, because it’s like skipping through the forest and all of a sudden you’re at the wizard’s house and it’s just too scary?
My blog: Okay. Also like that.
What do you wish I understood already?
Me: What do you wish I understood already?
My blog: That you are enough. That you have always been enough. That everything you do is enough.
Me: That isn’t what I thought you were going to say. I thought you want to encourage me to do more and do better.
My blog: Why would I want to do that?
Me: I don’t know.
My blog: Neither do I.
Me: What am I supposed to do with that?
My blog: If you keep acknowledging the enoughness of the people who read, without telling them that this is what you are doing, enoughness will just become one of the qualities that lives here.
Me: Like safety and sanctuary?
My blog: Yes, and like permission and sovereignty and playfulness and grounding and radiance and ridiculousness and delight.
Me: I had no idea so many qualities lived here.
My blog: That’s because you’ve been friends with them for so long.
If you could give me one piece of advice, what would it be?
Me: One piece of advice?
My blog: I already gave it to you. You are enough. Stop trying to be what Hiro calls the shepherd. Be in your enoughness.
Me: How do I “be in my enoughness”?
My blog: By saying that what you do is enough.
Me: But how can it be enough?
My blog: ….
Me:I f it’s true that what I do is enough … then wouldn’t that kind of imply that I am done? I don’t want to be done. I’m not ready to be done!
My blog: No. There is no done.
My blog: Just be in your enoughness.
Me: What does it look like, this being in my enoughness?
My blog: Talk to me. Talk to the enoughness. Talk to the you-from-later who already knows how to do this because she learned it.
Me: So … more interviews?
My blog: There may be some more interviews. You can also just have casual conversations. And go horseback riding together.
Me: Horseback riding?
My blog: It was just an example. You don’t have to. I just meant that it doesn’t have to be so formal. Why don’t you have a gratitude picnic and see who shows up?
Me: You totally remember every post I’ve ever written.
My blog: Yes. I spend a lot of time in the archives. You should visit. There’s some good stuff in there.
Me: There’s also a lot of terrible stuff in there.
My blog: And yet, you are enough. See? That’s how it works.
Me: “And yet, I am enough.” That’s how it works.
My blog: Yes.
Me: So I need to learn more about this enoughness thing. And, in order to do that, I need to: have picnics and ask questions and declare that I am enough.
My blog: That sounds good.
It’s all connected.
Me: How does enoughness relate to sustainability and queenliness and Bolivia and throwing Rallies and all the other stuff I want to write about?
My blog: It’s all connected.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean? I mean, in this context.
My blog: The more you are in your enoughness and connecting to this quality — this experience — of enoughness, the more you will see how the enoughness grows everything else you want to do in the world.
Me: So it’s okay if I don’t write about these themes just yet because they need to come from the me who already knows about enoughness?
My blog: I knew you’d understand. You’re so quick. It’s why we work so well together.
Me: We work so well together?
My blog: Six hundred and five posts and you hadn’t noticed that?
Me: I guess not.
My blog: That’s why you need to spend more time experiencing enoughness.
Me: You’re probably right.
My blog: Of course I’m right. That’s why you interviewed me.
And comment zen for today.
Enoughness is a difficult quality. Having conversations with one’s blog … as it turns out … also difficult.
No advice please. Just permission and space to experience things the way I experience them. And of course the same permission and space extend to you. Love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads. I appreciate you all tremendously.