The Art of Patience

I’m learning patience.  My chickens are not eating ticks fast enough.  My garden is not growing tall enough.  We have half a dozen projects that I am so excited about—but they are all in development and not yet in hand.

I wake up in the morning and wonder what I should do today—and then the day flies by as if I were working full time.  It would be better for me if I could just accept that it is a time for gardens to grow and not to harvest.  Then maybe I would relax and send a few less “shoulds” zinging through my mind.  Nature knows that there are times for seeds to fatten and sprout and times for leaves to fall to the ground.  I am not as smart as nature.  It might be my new meditative practice for the summer.  Actually, when I just go out and weed and rake and clear old stuff away, I feel clean and new.  Then I go to the lake and submerge myself.  It feels like a baptism every time I do it.  I love to swim underwater and hope to come back in my next life as a fish.

I will keep this very short tonight, but it is the first thing I’ve posted for quite awhile that wasn’t from an earlier file.

So, I’m working my way back to you (babe?).  Reminds me of a song.

J

 

 

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