50th Entry in the Forest

Life is so busy.

Today I begin to write this essay in the waiting room of our local office of the IRS, and finish it late lying nearly asleep, writing on my yellow pad at any available moment during, and between, tasks on my long, long list of the day.

Life is always busy. Lists are always long.

I keep scrambling through the underbrush of these lists, tasks snarling at my ankles. I methodically multi-task my way in relentless pursuit of the mountaintop from where I will be able one day to look out over the other side, taking measure of the broad landscape of a life with not a single list in sight.

Day in, day out, hour by painful, slogging hour, running here, dodging there, I seek the top of the Mountain which never appears. Nor do I even find a comfortable ledge for rest along the path.

Exhaustion and depression threaten if I stare at the lists too long. It is overwhelming to calculate just how much time it might take to accomplish each item and add that to the Whole. Dangerous enough to contemplate first thing in the morning for fear of never climbing out of bed, it is even worse to awaken startled at 3 AM in a sweat of panic that wide open eyes will not shut again before dawn.

During the day, no sooner is one task completed, marked off, and passed by, but like trees in the forest, there is no seeing beyond all the others to catch even a faint glimpse of the destination.

You just know it is there.

You have Faith.

For years, I have been plodding along, scrambling to pay bills with work that rewards me with dollars at the end of the week for nearly every hour I can charge. So many days though, it has felt like I was just cutting down and sawing up the tall, straight studs of Douglas Fir, installing them honorably into shelters for humankind , but overcome in the struggle of it, doing it without Spirit, and therfore, not successfully.

All the while, I have yearned to walk among the beautiful birch, stroll with companions in the moonlight under the flickering, silvery leaves. A story teller, by nature, I would describe the heart of our struggles to see our forests, and exalt the stories of those who overcome their fears of failure, finding their particular mountaintop where lists are no longer drugery, but blessings.

I have allowed myself to be sidetracked, lost my way.

Now, the trees one by one are changing--in my imagination first, then on this page. Step by measured step, not yet giving up my “day job”, I keep moving forward, completing tasks and choosing new, and different, assignments. Today, for example, in real life, thanks to Hayden Tompkins, under the canopied list of my varied identities, I added the description of editor.

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