I went right to work this morning...picking black raspberries. I picked 3 quarts in the quiet of the morning under a blue sky with bare feet and braless. Not such a good idea. Had to dress in long pants and boy was it hot but those blackberries are well armed and several scratches is getting off pretty easy. I love when the berries are so ripe and ready that they just fall into my tub with barely a touch. August is what gardening is all about. The weeds have officially taken over but it's time to turn my attention to picking and putting up. One thing leads to another and before I know it, I've picked squashes, lettuces, cucumbers and taken garden photos and played frisbee with Sadie. I've mowed the garden paths and as I move from one activity to another, I realize that it's up to me to say...stop. Seems simple enough...but I have worked hard all my life. I enjoy the feeling of working hard and accomplishing much but my body wants me to slow down, to stretch, to relax, and to be present. It doen't want to be driven by my mind all the time. This is an odd time of life. I'm a beginner at being an elder and an old lady at being childlike. I find myself rushing around like I did when my family was young and everthing I did for myself was done on stolen moments. I'd steal a half hour here to write or a walk in the woods or an hour there for reading a book. It all had to be done between laundry and cooking and cleaning and working and chauffering and appreciating and listening and reassuring someone else...usually Stevo and the boys but I did jobs too...ones that paid me money. Now I'm unemployed by most peoples standards though I feel like I'm working as hard as ever. It's just that I'm doing what I want. How is that a problem? It isn't really. It's the old habit of thinking I have to work 24/7 to get where I want to be...the mental rut of expecting not to be able to have time to do what I want to do. I've been juggling activities for so long to create space for myself to play, that I have lost my ability to play right when I have all the time in the world to do just that. Ironic. I'm so accustomed to having a problem with myself, to fenagling time for myself, to sacrificing my desires so others can have theirs...that I don't know how to handle this new developement in my life called ME. It's actually pretty funny. I watched the bees in the borage today. They are busy and buzzy and yes they move from flower to flower but there is nothing hurried about them. I watch my little dog Sadie with her friend next door. She is fully present in her play...and I marvel at her joy. I peruse my garden and I hear a critical voice commenting on the number of weeds and the way I can do it better next year and I see that boarding the brain train is not going to get me where I want to go. The mental habit of busy busy busy is just a habit that comes between me and my enjoyment of life. This is where I am. I have not achieved all I'd hoped to in my life but I have done my best. For whatever reason, here I am. Hopping on the heart train headed for a big juncture called Acceptance. Funny. That was the name I gave my very first journal way back in the 70's...and here it is again. So here I am at this garden of Paradise after a lifetime of work in effort to get here and what calls on me is one of the most difficult jobs yet...getting off the train and enjoying the arrival...embracing and celebrating the lifestyle I have created and making a joyful use of the time I have created for myself. I can stop seeing the problem and with a tiny tweak, see that I have actually lived myself into the answer. I'm reminded of the quote by Rilke...from a passage that was read at Stephen's and my wedding ceremony where he reminds the young poet to "learn to love the questions themselves ...that one day you might live into the answers." This passage lives inside me...and now to the task of savoring the blessings of my life's journey.
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