One night while in Palm Springs, I was getting dressed for dinner. I put on my dress, shoes and makeup, then I piled on a bunch of jewelry. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought “that’s too much.”
But I wasn’t in the mood to take anything off. I was tired of the caution of subtlety, the constant worrying that doom and gloom that will find you if you shine too brightly.
So I piled on a bunch more jewelry and thought to my self “now, that’s too much ENOUGH!”
There is a line between Too Much and Too Much Enough but it’s not a very fine line. It’s as clear as the difference between looking at your outfit and worrying that you’ve gone overboard and looking at your outfit and saying “fuck yeah! Take that, mediocrity!”.
Here is an example:
Have you heard of Zozobra? It’s a festival in New Mexico where they burn an effigy of the gloom from the previous year. Basically they kick Old Gloom in the nuts and leave it in the dust as they embark on a new year.
Too Much Enough feels like burning Zozobra, like a big fuck you in the face of constantly tempering one’s happiness so that the gods of doom won’t notice you. It makes me feel like I’m not afraid of life.
And, if you’re anything like me, you need to feel that way once in a while.