a spades depth

Tasks haunt me these days.  I write them down only to dismiss their reminders.
Each task carries with it the risk that it may be a waste of time.  It may only serve to keep me occupied a bit longer.
Time is going by so fast.  Riley 10 and Trey  8... Evan (5) and Cora (2) are demanding less and less of my time. What fills that void? I have options, more choice and "freedom" with what I choose to consume or create.  Will the former overshadow the latter?  And what is it that I default to? What is it that I may allow to dominate my free time.

I think it comes down to this:
Tasks are in the head space.

Does they keep me emotionally disconnected from people? These tasks,... what do I sacrifice in order to complete them?  I guess these tasks could be any number of tangible premeditated actions - items that could be "checked off" a list.  On the other side of a completed to do list, is anything really different?  It may end up costing me far more money, time, or emotion than it's worth. 

50 year garden plan

Yesterday's rainstorm served as vindication to the back breaking labor of digging raised beds this spring.  The down-poor completely eroded many of the larger tilled gardens in the area.  Our double dug raised beds with grass walkways kept their structure.   I hope to keep the soil and build upon it for a good 50 years to come.  Here's to staying put and putting down roots. 

In a meeting the other day I was reminded of a mindfulness practice that a friend once told me about.  I remember sharing with my friend that I was having a hard time adjusting to the personalities on the team we were both working with.  Her thought: make life a short story.  That crazy person? Yes, their role is essential.  The quiet recorder in the corner is needed in this story as well.  Each person is a well defined authentic character full-filling an all important role.  From this somewhat removed perspective, an otherwise intense/stressful/awkward interaction becomes almost comedic. So the task before me now is to be the authentic representation of myself today. 

And again I am reminded that I often fail to be my intention.  To really BE my intention. My intention may BE to__ create__, yet I often default to __consume__.  And I'm left to deal with my own inconsistencies. If I were asked by someone for a mission statement for why I do what I do when I do it, I would have a quick reply.  I do fear that the reply would come as a surprise to those who are with me most: my Family.   You see I am often in need of a recalibration of sorts.  A re-centering.  Why?  Because I am prone to wander.  I have a hellish thirst for comfort.  Pleasure is my default.  I would like to blame my "flesh" or my given place - here in the God forsaken realm of modernity - where I cannot for the life of me determine which "cog" I am to emulate or what "utility" I most efficiently embody. But I can only honestly admit that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to intentionality.  What is that intention?  It full of good deeds and praiseworthy creativity, I promise you.  I have every intention to BE that. But the BE must come first.  And only then should intention be followed up in the most authentic sense of the word.

How To Be a Poet

BY WENDELL BERRY

(to remind myself)

i   

Make a place to sit down.   

Sit down. Be quiet.   

You must depend upon   

affection, reading, knowledge,   

skill—more of each   

than you have—inspiration,   

work, growing older, patience,   

for patience joins time   

to eternity. Any readers   

who like your poems,   

doubt their judgment.   

ii   

Breathe with unconditional breath   

the unconditioned air.   

Shun electric wire.   

Communicate slowly. Live   

a three-dimensioned life;   

stay away from screens.   

Stay away from anything   

that obscures the place it is in.   

There are no unsacred places;   

there are only sacred places   

and desecrated places.   

iii   

Accept what comes from silence.   

Make the best you can of it.   

Of the little words that come   

out of the silence, like prayers   

prayed back to the one who prays,   

make a poem that does not disturb   

the silence from which it came.

Source: Poetry (January 2001).