Another List, and Maybe A Couple More.

A sheltered life can be a daring life as well.  For all serious daring starts from within.  Eudora Welty

Photos from a year ago, a sunny, droughtful January:  Blue skies, pink blossoms, and incredible light filled each day.  This morning (oh Lord, it is noon) is gray, with rain and fog, squealing robins, and rivulets of water now clear, moving toward the river.  The paper this morning says that our lake is 90% full, from this past week of deluge.  Some say the drought is over, that California doesn't need to conserve water this year.  Mmmm, hmmmmmmm.  Shortsightedness sustains us, right?  Moves the economy, the building, the living-way-beyond-the-means, makes the cash flow like a river, no?

This morning I have been so "off," having over-booked my schedule to the tune of double-booking clients.  Then I needed to sort that out, make it right, and in the meantime, there were cancellations, phone calls left on my machine.  Unbeknownst to me, who went to purchase turkey legs for the dogs, got side-tracked and had a scone in the little Underground Cafe, with fresh coffee, read the paper, wrote a few more lists, talked to a friend.  Climbing into the car, I was beset with a sense of urgency, "What the @%#@&*+%$#@+&*** time IS it?"  Oh, not good:  I'd forgotten practically, where I was.  The rain hit the windshield.  A crow flew overhead, lit on the edge of the roof.

Grandma Annie loved Flowering Quince, the first flamboyance in her garden, though at one time she had Forsythia, too, which blooms even earlier.  These blossoms make me think of her, and her overgrown garden.  She had a Wisteria in her back yard, which my dad cursed yearly, since he took time and much effort to help with her trimming, after they'd moved off the Larabee ranch.  "It grows 12 Goddamn feet a year!"  Flowering Quince is a shrub which revels in it's shrubbiness, looks best, I think, just left to her own devices, her own flowering.

I may have contributed to my own off-the-planetness this morning.  Just so you know, I have now eaten a healthy breakfast, have a pot of veggie stew simmering for dinner, and have my work schedule under some control (down to one client, but what the hay, I'm grateful!).  Last night I started a new list:

How would I know an apology was real?

1. I would feel something.
2. Some one would tell me it was real.
3. The world would be a safer place.
4. It would NEVER happen again.
5. I would be safe.  As would all of my beloveds.

What do I need apologies for?

1. Oh Goddess, I cannot go there.
2. You must.
3. I need an apology for your not being who you said you were going to be.

This all came about in my search for a "jump-off line."  Valuable work.  I know that these contemplations are only alive in my head, bumping around, making me uncomfortable.  I know that forgiveness, the kind where I do the forgiving, is the way through these lists.  I am grateful for the pen with which to write it down, get it out of the cycle.  This is the de-cluttering I need to do.

I forgive:

1. I forgive you, Me.
2. I forgive the past.
3. I forgive the future.
4. I forgive now.

To the 90% full Lake!  To the quilt!  To work!  To Love.

xoxoLC