Enough

by Jen Barber

At ten she is a reader.
Borrowed books crammed in backpacks and shoved under car seats and hidden between bedsheets. She’s allergic to grass but will sit in a field for hours. The itching less urgent than the need for one more word, one more page, one more chapter.

At twenty she is a partier.
Nights often stretch until morning around bonfires, on beaches, or in barely lit basements. Her tired body yearns for more of everything that it ingests.
More cigarettes, more alcohol, more thin white lines and tiny pills to sate the desire to dull the ache.

At thirty she is a spiritualist.
She’s found yoga, breath work, and sacred texts to be read by candlelight. She climbs mountains and attends workshops. She’s hungry for universal truths and meaning. She weeps at the brilliance of sunrise, and swoons at the coos of babies.
And still she craves more.
More love, more peace, more grace, more sleep.

At forty she shifts gears.
Limitless consumption takes a backseat to the regimentation of restraint. Now she finds power in abstinence rather than excess. Stripping things down instead of filling them up.
No gluten, no animal products, no alcohol, no food between the hours of 7p and 11a.
No days without the routines of downward dogs and meditation, tea and chocolate.

Will these rituals finally bring the liberation and freedom she desires, or will they bind her in a prison of her own creation?
Will anything ever be enough?


* * * * *

Jen Barber is a lover of words, of people, of the natural world. She has always been moved by the subtleties and complexities observed in life. She is drawn to what exists beneath the surface of things and is awed and humbled by what she discovers there. Through poetry, Jen hopes to share the essence of how she experiences the world with others.