the work i do these days is not very emotionally challenging. it involves a lot of data and naming conventions and organization of files for books. title group IDs. eISBNs. no-crop PDFs. pixels. FTP sites. it’s quite easy to disengage at 5:30, take my brain back out of my desk drawer, and get on with my moving, thinking, loving, being-life.

so it’s not often that the contents of my desk-life find their way into my being-life. there isn’t a ton of overlap between my heart and book digital marketing and metadata delivery. this morning, when i woke up wondering which assets of my title group ID were present there, in that place, and which elements had yet to be identified, re-named, and delivered, i was a little surprised by the hazy clarity of my existential question. which parts of me are here? which parts have i not yet figured out? which parts of me have i forgotten to turn in, leaving gaps that might go unnoticed for at least a little while?

during my pre-alarm assessment this morning, it took me seconds to confirm that my title group (title group ID: whitney), is all here. there’s nothing missing. i don’t have to worry about whether or not i’ve been careful to include both eISBNs or ensure the latest currency conversions for sale in Canada. i’m enough for right here and right now.

naturally, as i’ve thought more about this strange waking moment further into the day, i’ve talked myself down from this knee-jerk feeling of wholeness. it’s easier to assume that of course there are pieces that are missing — and, sure, i’ll find them along the way because i’m not finished becoming myself yet. and unlike most long-awaited items on my checklist, i don’t have a countdown for that. all i can be is what i am in this time and space. any book assets in my title group ID that may be missing are not really missing. i am whitney and i am present and that is just enough. so here i am: ready to read and be read.