I took a break from working on some music to sit outside in the back yard, and just sat and looked and listened. I didn't "do" anything, I just sat there, and enjoyed the air.
I looked around at all the things I "could" tidy up, all the things I "could" put right, all the improvements/modifications I "could" make, and I thought, "I've done nothing out here, for years. I used to do all sorts of things. Starting a project used to be no effort at all--sometimes, even finishing it was no effort. I wonder... could I still do things out here? Could I tidy up, even a little? Could I do... something? Anything?"
One of the plants, a four-foot high ginkgo tree in a pot, had been blown over. I thought, "I'll do 'something.' I'll pick that up." Which I did. But it was not easy. I stood up (eventually), I walked the fifteen feet from my chair to the tree (eventually, one very halting step at a time, quite concerned that I was going to fall over at any minute, with each step), and I returned the tree to the upright position (easy). And then walked back inside (eventually).
I guess that explains why I've done so little out there since my nervous system got ravaged... Well, if it doesn't explain it, it certainly demonstrates the reason for my backyard-adventure lassitude.
But I did enjoy the wind.
What can I do? What should I do? Of the things I should do, which can I do? Of the things I can do, which should I do?
And the hardest question of all: what do I want to do?
Of all the questions, that's the one I can't even begin to answer.
But the wind... I enjoy the wind. And, on days like today, I can sit in the yard, and enjoy the wind. And so, maybe I should.
On the M.S. road, so few things are clear. When they are clear... perhaps that's the gift that we need most to reach for, and to embrace.