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This post has been inspired by the gorgeous Miss Mary Max and her hosting the Self-Discovery, Word by Word series, September edition. This month’s theme, Enough, has always made me struggle enough, as the following text perspires. But being able to write about a struggle is, to me, taking one step forward in this long run that is life.

Enough is enough.

Or, as it seems, until I say it is. Enough can be a never-ending race if I call it so but don’t call stop.

Too often I find my mind located in my foot, in motion or suspension, waiting to crush a handful of pebbles. But not yet, though; these pebbles are hopes of not being squeezed by a single sole. Yet, yet again, they are going to be trampled on as my mind wanders to my other foot in a flash.

The stamping must go on. The race must be won. One sole, sometimes two, moving in accordance but never in the present.

Eyes watching back, back watching eyes. Whose back? A better back, the best one, running too fast but wait, no, I’m gonna catch it up and then with everything else.

Catch back. Catch up. Catch in every possible direction until you find something solid, sturdy, impossible to crush.

Pebbles are weak. The ground is malleable. The sky, leaky.

My inner runner is not able to be weak. But I have been tramping on her, and I’ll keep stamping until her body is mashed enough.

And as I’ve reached the soft end of the spectrum, I’ll run back to the harsh one, as fast as I can, as if « enough » couldn’t last more than a half second.

Enough is never enough. An end is never its opposite. And rarely is enough seen in pain. Maybe it is just running away from it.

And I’ll keep on running, beating many more enoughs, learning new limits and bumping back in them.

(This post is an attempt to follow a guideline as short as a word long – some people call this a « theme ». As you may have understood already, the theme is change. See Medicinal Marzipan’s blog for an explanation of the Self Discovery Word by Word Blogger Series, and the post that has launched the change.)

This life has been moving me around. This life has been moving so far.

Every day brings its bundle of surprises and surprising fears. Every day brings a load of clothes I could swear I have never worn. Out I find different images than in, what I had as a world.

Everything keeps changing… from what? From what I imagine they would become? That’s not what I could call real change: It’s just a becoming – of things as they are.

I like to say become instead of change. Then I can brag I’m always becoming myself, in the many myselves I can be throughout life.

To me, change brings a negative connotation forthwith – it sounds as unwelcome as a reason for a friend’s treason, or a switching off of the radio after an ill-formed popularesque song. Change sounds like forgetting oneself. Change looks like shutting oneself up.

Well, I may not be right, even in my own world. In fact, what change I do not caress is the unaccepted, refused, fought-against type of change. But change could not care less of my resistance, and keeps rolling on me whatever.

That’s where I « gotta roll with it » – to paraphrase a once-not-so-popular pop song – and on it, through it, in it. Change is a surfing dough from which I’ll become. Hmm, I mean, I become. Cause I am already.

Guess who’s coming to dinner tonight? A surprise, a surprise me. I’m all ready for the fear of this everbecoming lady.

Sometimes an unexpected change of setting may bring in the most welcome guests.