Circular Logic

I want to simplify my life to have more time to do things I love…

Hmmmm…

What things are frivolous enough to drop?  Is it the minutes watching goldfinches fight at the feeder, no, hardly that.

I’m compelled to witness tiny black wings battle the crowd, an eternal combat for enough nyjer to survive another day.  And I am their quartermaster filling feeders, scooping black sunflower, millet, and safflower in great piles as the chickadees watch from swaying branches. 

So, I must do that. 

Well, what then, what should be stripped? Is it tending to terriers? Three sets of eyes fixed, anxious, waiting…waiting…waiting. The squeak of pleasure when I give in, set the computer aside and scratch behind their ears.

No abandoning that.

Should I expunge my hours writing? If so, this bit of text would never emerge on this page, in this dawn light at my desk.

Forego time with my grandchildren…their pink faces growing every time I turn my back?

What should I erase? Is it reading lovely novels? Is it plumping the pillows on the couch?  Maybe I could resist the smell of homemade bread, whole wheat with sunflower, honey, and flax?

Should I flake out on my glorious hour of yoga…delicious shavasana at the end? No Namaste?

What do I delete? How do I choose? Do I cut loose beloved friends, wash my hands of foremost family?

Where is the manual, the guide to live an uncluttered life?

Do I kick my hiking through wildflower-strewn-meadows to the side? My husband? He of many intimate years?

Is it podcasts that need to go?

Or should it be my loom?  Should I pack its warp and weft and throw it over?  Stop caressing the soft wool as under-over it emerges into a living marvel? 

What is it that I can sacrifice for efficiency, peace of mind, and order?

Then the revelation, the circle…

What would I do with extra time found in a trimmed-down life? I would observe the chickadees, scratch the terriers, write, frolic with my grandchildren, amble with my husband, chatter with friends, devour a novel, lose myself in podcasts, I would dream weave on my loom.

And I’m right back where I started…how do I find time to do the things I yearn to do? I’ll go watch the goldfinches, have a slice of warm buttered bread, and chew it over.