dmdubay

There is much freedom in admitting mistakes. The perfectionist in me still lurks close to the surface, though. It takes humility to say, “I’m sorry, I did wrong,” and ask for forgiveness. But the relief it provides is liberating. One would think that humbling oneself would be a downer, but just the opposite is true. When I admit I was wrong, or I’m not perfect, I am freed from having to put on a good face. I just am—with all my wrinkles and kinks, all my quirks and idiosyncrasies. I let go of the false image I have been trying to create for others to see. An added benefit is that I can let go of my expectations of others. They’re not perfect either.

I read a reflection the other day about laughing at oneself and reconnecting to the playfulness of childhood. The writer recommended playing with abandon: sliding down slides, swinging on swings, skipping down the street. I went for a walk that morning and wanted to take his advice, but first I had to check all around to be sure there was no one watching, no other pedestrians or drivers. I don’t want to look foolish, you know. I did, finally, skip a little. I was a little awkward and was out of breath before long, but it was freeing. The image of a sixty-something woman skipping down the road is just too funny. Next time I will let go of caring what others think. I’ve got to take myself much less seriously. Somehow, having a friend who will act child-like with me is all it takes.

Unless you become as little children…

swinging

I finally got around to cleaning out my clothes closet and freed myself of many attachments. What fun! I was on a roll. Going through a stack of pants and jeans, I narrowed it down significantly. I found myself thinking, “Will I ever be skinny enough to wear this again and if I am, will it be in style. (As though that matters to me.) Some things, relatively new, I looked at and thought, “What was I thinking? Who would ever wear this?” I have much more to shed, but I can already see that it is more orderly. Oh, the joys of freedom and letting go!

dancing at sunset

One of my favorite prayers is the prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola:

“Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,

my memory, my understanding

and my entire will.

All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.

To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours: do with it what you will.

Give me only your love and your grace.

That is enough for me.”

Love and grace…that’s all I really need. So why do I cling to so many things? I guess my prayer should be to be able to say this prayer and really mean it.

The final editing of my book is complete. What a wonderful thing to let go: the worry, the work and concentration. At some point I had to let go of the idea that it would be perfect. It is not. All projects, including life, come to an end and I must accept the fact that all I can do is try to do my best. What is done, is done. In the journeying I find my true self as I go from step to step, grasping with my toes the new ground as I release the ground where I have been. How could I walk otherwise? It reminds me of the Tai Chi way of walking. Each foot is conscious of its placement, rolling, feeling, balancing, grounding the body to the earth, then releasing to lift and swing forward. Awareness of the now keeps me from falling

on the edge

I moved and rearranged my sewing area and found a whole box of things that needed mending, small things that would take only a few minutes to do—a button here, a small rip in a seam there—but they have lain in that box for years, cluttering. Could this symbolize gifts I have hidden away, unused, needing only need a little sprucing up to be used again and be beneficial to me and others?

October 12

Sunday, a day of rest, but it seems that the only thing I have rested from is the need to control what I do and where I go. The day was planned out for me. It was exhausting and yet peaceful. There is something to be said for following schedules. It eliminates the need to wrestle with decisions.

October 13

The grapes are all in. Let it snow or rain or blow. Let the birds fly and eat what they will. The grapes are safely in barrels, crushed and fermenting. It’s a great feeling. I can finally get to what I intended to start at the beginning of October: lighten my load and get rid of “stuff.” It feels so good to de-clutter.

misty morning on Sucia