Oh no, I'm a control freak

but I am horrible at it, in much the same way as a dog does not make a good cat, sorbet just doesn't cut it as ice cream or mosquitoes do not make loving house pets. I love order from chaos, but I tend to control that which is not in my power to control. Much like standing in front of a dam after hurricane Irene, there are those things that I am not meant to manage, like nearly everything. But I try to do so anyways. And it never works out, go figure. Wouldn't life be amazing if I could just sit back with a remote control, put in my orders and watch as things miraculously fell into place? Probably not. It seems when I give up the battle to constantly try and force a round peg into a triangular hole, I always find the round hole, or turn into a triangular peg. It just works when I give up the battle. So I have quiet time, time to sit and be with myself, not a fun filled activity, but it has been enlightening. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could just create the story line that my life was to follow? Probably not, because I am not aware of all the possibilities out there that are available to me. My human sized brain cannot comprehend the immensity that is God. I am told just to turn it over, but how exactly does one do that? Today I made a list of the things I could do, and I did them. I also asked that my will be aligned with God's Will. That for me is the act of turning it over, actually asking for help and when that help arrives, accepting it. This life stuff gets tricky sometimes. 

And they appeared, as if by magic

Autumn has slipped in, the leaves are already changing here in the Berkshires. This morning I took to the Appalachian Trail for the first time in a few weeks, and it was like slipping into a different world. Birch leaves covered the trail, roots seemed to have sprung (my feet had forgotten where they were.) It even sounded different, songbirds no longer called, here and there a word or two; instead the air was filled with the rustling of falling leaves. Light filtered through already bare patches where evergreens were absent. The woods smelled like wet dog in certain places, others, damp moss. Fungi grew, popping up overnight it seemed, bright red, brilliant white, round and bumpy, the mushrooms hinting at a world invisible to the eye that waits to explode when we aren't looking. I stopped at the stream to pray, the water rushing from our overabundance of precipitation these last few weeks. Cattails had started to brown. As I stood on the rock that crosses the brook I started to see spider webs appear, as if by magic. They hung from birch branches and spanned the distance between cattails and other tall grasses. The longer I stood, the more came into view. I have been forced to slow down recently, this morning was no exception. No calls to work were received, so I have a day, a brilliant autumn day to run and read and try to listen for answers. What is the next step? The spider weaves a web and waits. Has my web been woven? What is the proper mixture of work and meditation? I know that when I force situations to occur, the end result is less than desirable (I still regret the grammatically flawed resumes sent by the dozens.) Nature has her season of work and her season of rest. Now she is cleaning up, purging and preparing for a little quiet before the rebirth. Today the leaves fall, without any real effort, they are no longer needed to make sugar for food. The songbirds do not need to attract a mate. Today the webs come into focus, as long as I am quiet and pay attention. Is it my season to slow down, sit back and allow, or do I need to go out and grab for what I need, gathering nuts for a long winter? I am not sure. But I do know that if I take care of what needs to be done today, exercise, prayer, meditation, writing and a little grocery shopping, the next steps will appear, as the webs did, as the sunlight hit the morning dew.