…And then along comes a piece from Anne Lamott and I start to wonder if I am doing it all wrong.

In my line of work it is easy to spend beautiful days like this (at least on the East coast, I can’t speak for other regions) at the computer churning out words, words, and more words. I sometimes get anxious. Writing deadlines are looming–REALLY looming. I’m behind on class prep. Three meetings tomorrow in addition to teaching. I am coming off a sabbatical, but I’m entering the new semester exhausted.

And then along comes this piece from Anne Lamott and I start to wonder if I have been doing it all wrong.

A taste:

How to live? On any unremarkable day, I wake up more curious than I used to be about what’s in store. Today is going to unfold as it is going to unfold. I am not going to be able to corral it like a horse. I hate this, but less and less. Now I wake up a little confused: Where am I? Oh, yeah. Right here, today, always. I pray simple prayers.

When I got sober many years ago, an old guy told me that while most people in recovery pray a formal, beautiful, spiritual prayer upon waking, the old-timers just say, “Whatever.” And rather than another set prayer at bedtime, they all just say, “Oh, well.”

How to live? Simplicity is so rich. My unremarkable days might seem infinitely uninteresting to a youthful person. But older age has given me permission to do what I always dreamed of doing: sit around reading, walk, putter. Busyness and fear constrict us in youth; fresh air and nature free us in old age.

My pastor said you can trap bees at the bottom of a Mason jar without a lid because they don’t look up and fly away. So I look up. Today, darker fog covers the lower part of the mountain but becomes a soft, heathery gray where it meets the deep green of the hills.

How to live? When I look up and around, I finally see that almost everything I need is here. It is not everything I’ve ever wanted, which I’m sure would make me feel happy and fulfilled every moment. But all the facets of love are here: voices, faces, the sounds of the garden, music, rich and elaborate silences. Without so many extraneous pushes, shoves or pulls as there once were, it feels like there is a net to catch and hold us.

I used to seek remarkable sites, events and people. Now I notice more supposedly unremarkable moments, which as it turns out are why we are here. My husband, son and grandson; a few best friends; the animals: A lot of the time, I’m as happy as a child to see them, to see it all. Dew, stars, Neal’s apricot tea roses — variations on a theme of sparkle. Age has smoothed away so many edges and the need to figure out the angles: Love is less negotiated as you grow old.

Mostly.

Read the entire piece here. The anxiety dissipates with every Lamott word.

I think I’ll go sit on the back deck for a while and fix my eyes (beyond the lawn that needs cutting) on the old barn that still stands on the lot across my property line. I’ll just stare at it, basking in the coolness of a late summer early evening. Maybe one of my daughters will get back from work early and Facetime. Joy will be home soon and we will share a meal and talk about the day. The Mets are playing the Red Sox tonight. September baseball is good when your team is in the hunt.

I’ll try to say a prayer of thanksgiving for it all.