Lady Elaine is not a pretty puppet. To be fair, well. . .let us just say she is particularly beauty-challenged.
In one episode, Lady Elaine was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She said without hesitation, 'I want to be a princess.'
They asked, 'Oh. What will you do?'
'I'll bring all my friends over and they can tell me how pretty I am.'
They asked, 'Then what will you do?'
She said, 'I'll say thank you.'
'Then what will you do?'
She thought, 'Hmmm. I'll have to get more friends and bring them in to tell me how pretty I am.'
'Then what?'
'I'll say thank you.'
'Then what?'
'I'll guess I'll have to get more friends and bring them in to tell me how pretty I am.'

At some point in our life we learn--and not always the easy way--that there are never enough people to tell us how pretty we are; or how thin, or how famous, or how successful, or how indispensable. But this relentless pursuit is hard wired somehow, and we end up forfeiting our identity to the whims of public opinion. Go figure; we give up who we are for who we think we should be. Carly Simon nailed it in"The Girl You Think You See."

Tell me who you long for

In your secret dreams 

This is no surprise in a world inundated by means of the bombardment of more. Try to buy a new phone. And you're told the one you've just bought is so... 28 seconds ago. When I wanted to upgrade my phone, I was offered the latest model that would allow me to watch movies... on my phone. I asked, "Do you have a model that just takes phone calls?" His response, "Why would you want just that?"

The system is rigged to confirm that more is never enough.
While there is something about these additions (whatever is newer, faster, more improved or in vogue) that appear to take care of something (or fill a need), here's what I know: The pull and tug serves to separate me from the present.  

From this moment.  

From this self.

My conversations with many people attending my events over the past two weeks have confirmed this... sooner or later, the pull and tug can wear you down.  

Phillip Gulley, in his book Porch Tales, wrote a childhood memory about his family's house. The house they fell in love with was red. Red was not a typical color back in the day. He remembers the Realtor suggesting that they paint the house a pleasant neutral color, so it would be easier to sell when they moved. Gulley muses, "We hadn't even moved in, and we being told how to sell the house."

A man once asked the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh what it is that monks actually do.
"We walk and we sit and we eat," Hanh replied.
"Is that all?"
"Yes, but when we walk, we know we are walking, and when we sit, we know we are sitting, and when we eat, we know we are eating."

Where is this place. . .
where we do not need to give in to what if?
Or, if only?
Or, I'll need more friends to tell me how pretty I am?
Where is this place, where we let go of our fear of losing, and of our neurotic striving after what we hope to gain?

After the Creation narrative, God rested... not because he was tired. God rested to celebrate, to savor, to delight in, to play, to revel in the creation. God rested and declared it holy.  

To say, it is good.  

Not perfect, but good.   

In fact, very good.  

In fact, enough.  

And in that rest, God is affirming that there is nothing to prove. We are invited to enter that rest. Sabbath is the invitation to rest from the tyranny of pursuit. From that rest, we can live, work, contribute, care, risk, delight, give, relate from acceptance, rather than for acceptance. And it is enough.  

Because here's the deal: Grace is abundant. . .

When I no longer fear judgment or indignity.

When I am able to pay no heed to public opinion or what if. 

When I let go of whatever confines or restricts my heart--worried about the many things.

If I'm honest, I have to say that I'm not sure I have been able to live this way. Yes, it is easy to talk about embracing enough. To practice, not so much. At least that's the way it has been in my life recently. Oddly, with that unease, it only makes me want to try harder, just like Lady Elaine.