But is it enough?

I get it. There is only so much that we can do. But I'd been afraid that none of it, none of this could matter much.

I could try to blog, practice writing and maintain a daily reading quota. But then I would have to cut back on yoga and daydreaming.  I could try to spend less time on each task and try to multitask. But the brain has its own ideas of working, and it doesn't like multitasking.

I'd love to figure out how much is enough. How many tasks must I check off my list to feel adequate? How much change in the world in order to feel that I have paid the cost of my earth? Do I need to start a weight-loss diary too?

____

I had an enlightening moment today.

I was mulling over the worries when I gave up thinking and decided to spread the Tarot cards. And the cards said something like, "Wait. A visitor is going to shed some light on the very things you're worried about."

So I stopped trying to create and kept watch. I watched the Timelines and phone lines. I watched the sunrise and pages turning.

Then he posted on his Timeline. To which I responded. To which a possibility turned into inevitability: "Skype?" "Great idea."

I saw the spread of hints that amalgamated into a Sign. That we both had the time to attend. And the flow of words effortlessly filled hearts with wonders. Until a De Javu sealed the hush with certainty.  

That's when we knew we're exactly where we’re supposed to be.

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First things first: The questions that I can’t answer immediately don't belong on my task list.

That is one thing that this habit of writing has convinced me in its wake. No matter how much I analyze it, fussing about things that are beyond my control won’t lead anybody anywhere.

And today, my Truth came in the form of an effortless conversation. I had waited until the right time to ask the right person the right questions. How he came to be there when I needed him was beyond my scope of understanding. How I came to be there waiting for a Sign was within my habits of relinquishing hold over the things that are beyond my control.

I didn’t even need proof that my work is worthwhile. I just needed the assurance that I am going the right way.

And maybe it’s vain to think that we matter. Maybe the best way to live with the Big Questions is to learn existing with their Unanswerableness.

Just exist? How could you?

Well, I’m happy, aren’t I? What could be more important than that?

HOW DARE YOU?!

By balancing between effort and result.

In all honesty, do you not think that it takes a colossal effort to refrain from packing my bag and leave this auditory hell of a village every prayer call? Like hell it does. And instead of packing, I unsheathe a bagful of envelopes. And turn up the music. Then go and lie down on my belly and rest my back. And then I get to break my fast with Wawung. And we'll have Papaya juice that'll go down very quickly and happily.

And that’s something. That’s work. That’s progress. From winning the little battles with Self, to figuring out the best possible ways of alleviating the callouses of daily labors. (It’s also a sign of progress to compare the state of my mind between now and the beginning of this writing session. I’ve practically talked myself into reasserting my delusions about happiness.)

 How else could we recognize the Signs of probable greatness, if we miss their momentous progress in everyday ordinariness?