I was in a guided meditation once that did such a good job of establishing me in the moment, so present in the flow of my own breath, that I remember not questioning anything the meditation guide said--yes, I am perfect in this moment; yes, I am here now; and so on. But then, at the end came these words: You are enough. You are more than enough.
Well. For some reason that did it. For some reason, being told that I was not only enough, but *more* than enough unhinged me right there. I remember weeping on my mat, so grateful, so relieved that I was more than enough.
You see, I think this is the thing--'perfect' is such a hard word to digest. And, yes, we can logically accept, maybe, that in this moment we are doing the best we can with what we have and, in that way, we are the perfect expression of the small, soft creature buried way down deep in there. But I'm not sure we ever actually believe it.
But enough? How many times have we convinced ourselves we weren't enough? What kind of impact has that belief had on a day, a year, a life? So when we're let off that perfection hook, I think we're more open to believing the truth, which is this, sweet souls:
You, no matter what, will always be loved, have always been loved, and will always, always be more than enough.