The lists. The lists are threatening to take me over. If I lived with paranoid schizophrenia, I might just be like John Nash and have various versions of them tacked all over the walls of my office. Since I can span my office my stretching out my arms, this would probably be even more overwhelming than Nash’s back garage. So for this and for many, many more important reasons, I am glad I don’t suffer from paranoid schizophrenia.
And yet still the lists.
- One for the farm, for what needs to be done to get this place ready for the wedding – mulching and building firepit walls and painting the pump house.
- Another for who is coming to the wedding, and that one is paired with the one of people we invited so that we can see which RSVPs have returned.
- Then, there’s the list of agents I’ve queried.
- Then, a list of people in our online writing community, and this list is broken into three segments for the various ways people are involved.
- A list of all the expenses for the wedding.
- A list of my clients, their deadlines, and the steps I need to take to meet them.
- And finally, today’s to do list that includes everything from the mundane of “laundry” to the most exotic “Heinz Musitronics.”
Of course, here, I just made a list of my lists. I’m out of control.
Yet, I put it all aside. I tuck the lists behind my screen and up in my white wire “to do” box. I pick up a pink colored pencil, and I color for a few minutes, the need to keep the angle just right so that I don’t create one dark light amidst my furls of soft, shading. I fill in a few petals, and I refocus on what needs to do be.
Words, lineages of names, deep breaths, the softness of violet lead edging against a piece of paper.
I push back the lists into piles and focus on the most important thing today – to live the gifts and the passion I have been handed – because today I can. Even with activities that so many deem more important, I choose to write. Not because it’s better. Not because it’s holy. Not because it’s perfect. But because it is what I do, who I am, somewhere deep behind the lists where words almost fail.
I sanctify time today by realizing there will always be more lists, more things to take care of. More laundry.
I use my breath and the strength of my fingers to haul up words, abundant and thin, like time.