You Are Enough is my song.
I listen to it in the morning when the gremlins are whispering I’ll never get it all done. I put it on in the afternoon when I realize the jerks were right. And I listen to it in the evening, when I’m at my most contemplative and consequently most vulnerable. You Are Enough is my all-inclusive ticket. It’s how I travel from Today to Tomorrow.
Lately, though, between getting ready to move and trying to “stay creative,” I’ve neglected to play my jam. Instead I’ve been listening to “Just 3 sales this month? Kinda sad, don’t you think?” And “Definitely not your best work, Cara.”
Strange, but for some reason, I’ve been feeling anxious, exhausted, listless and afraid. I feel stiff. Like old bread or frozen celery. Like if you tried to bend me, I would snap in half.
And so I took all of that with me today as I began a new piece; and what do you know: it pooped itself on to the page like pomegranate run through tree shredder.
The day is happening too fast.
I feel like I’m barely holding onto its coattails, as it drags me from hour to hour, whisking me from morning to noon without even a pause for the beautiful day happening for me.
A second ago, I did two things.
The first: I ate chocolate. Because — as if we needed a reason — it makes me pause to savor. Savoring leads to gratitude, and gratitude leads to joy. Joy is a superpower. It is the best superpower of all superpowers because, unlike every other superpower, it does not depend on things going well to work. Sisters, hear me. You do NOT want a thin body or flawless skin or worldwide recognition. Those things taste sweet but they quickly turn sour. Then they go rancid, and start to eat at all your most special soft parts. What you want is JOY.
Joy will feed your whole broken heart.
The second thing I did was put on my jam. I’m listening to it RIGHT NOW. I’m also praying for each one of you by name, asking God to send my jam into your hearts, so it can be YOUR jam if it’s not already.
This is what I know: you are enough. You are. The amount of enoughness in you could light up Times Square. It could fly a plane from Hawaii to Russia.
It could change . . . everything.
This Little Light 