Michael has been meditating on one word this entire trip: enough.
It’s a funny word. Being so small, but holding itself with the quiet confidence of something that never needs to prove its size. Sounding like surrender, but being the beginning of peace. Enough: the moment your soul stops reaching and starts resting.
At the beginning of this trip, I didn’t think much of the word he kept repeating. I wanted to do what everyone does—chase all the famous sites, rush to take the photos, and step quickly out of the way so someone else could cycle through. It felt productive, but hollow, like I was managing beauty instead of meeting it. Each stop became another box to check, another proof of having lived the right kind of life.
I’m not saying there is anything wrong with loving the photo or the checklist— beauty meets us all differently—but after a few ports, I started to feel, I guess the word is dirty. Dropping into a city for a couple of hours, pushing through crowds, fighting for a few seconds of space to snap a picture, and moving on—it felt wrong. Beauty became something I was trying to take by force. The noise, the shouting, the endless offers to buy or pose or tour—it was too much. Every “must-see” destination felt more trap than treasure. And that appallation fits, doesn’t it? Tourist trap. A place that catches your hunger for wonder and sells it back to you at a markup.
Somewhere between ports four and five, the emptiness became palpable. We looked at each other and realized: this isn’t rest, it’s performance.
So we stopped. This might not be a better way to travel—it’s just what my soul seemed to need at the time. So, at the next port, we got off the ship without a plan, without a list, and just started walking. No tickets, no tours, no pressure to justify the price of admission. And the strangest thing happened—the less we tried to see, the more we actually saw. The quieter our plans became, the louder the beauty got.
That’s when I started to understand the word Michael has been carrying. Enough.
Enough isn’t about scarcity; it’s about sufficiency. It’s not about settling for less but recognizing what’s already been given. It’s a spiritual sensation. In the wilderness, God provided manna—just enough for the day. In the feeding of the five thousand—“They all ate and were satisfied.” In Paul’s thorn—“My grace is sufficient for you.” The touch point of the miracle wasn’t in the excess but in the moment when what they had became enough.
Anxiety thrives on the opposite feeling: not enough.
Not enough time. Not enough beauty. Not enough experience to prove the trip was worth it.
“Enough” interrupts the spiral in a still point between gratitude and greed, a pause that reminds you there’s no better moment than this waiting somewhere else. This is the moment, whether you see all the sites or not.
Now, each time I start to rush—to see one more thing, to capture one more photo —I hear that word again.
Enough.
Enough striving. Enough hurry. Enough trying to make the memory more important than the moment.
Maybe “enough” is the most spiritual word we can use in this season. Because when we can say it and mean it, we’re no longer standing in the economy of lack. We’re standing in the generosity of grace.
And maybe that’s the secret to rest—not getting everything we hoped for, but finally realizing we already have what we need. The world quiets when we do. Even our hearts quiet. Because in the end, enough isn’t about what fills our hands, but Who fills our lives.
Yes to these thoughts. Time to be, to see, to appreciate. Enough.
I can resonate with this. Have really been intentional the last few years to “rest in enough”. Haven’t done it perfectly but it is very freeing and satisfying.