The Queen of Lists

I confess that I am the recently self-deposed Queen of Lists.

During my reign, I maintained a list for work items, house-related projects, personal lists, shopping lists, Christmas lists and a list for the highest priority items from the other lists.  There was even a special book in which to keep the lists orderly.  High priority items went on the dry-erase board along with the grocery list, which was then transferred to paper for the actual grocery trip.  Ah, the Queen of Lists was also the Queen of Organization & Control and believe me, she was good at it.  All those little tasks marching in an orderly fashion between lines of paper, some with check marks showing their contented state of completion.  What lovely lists!  What guilt-ridden lists.

Almost immediately after my cancer diagnosis, I had a visceral reaction to that once-revered book of lists.  It had morphed from a useful tool into a judgmental and controlling force that had entangled the strands of my life, sucking out spontaneity, creativity, and the desire to just be.  I didn’t simply toss it into the trash can, I threw it with a punch that would make a fast-pitch softball player proud.  I could almost hear the Queen of Lists shouting “Off with her head!” just like the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland. Ha! What a relief it was to hear that book of control thud into the can. 

It was time to live, not list.  It was time to stop finding personal satisfaction and significance by checking off items on a never-ending list.  It was time to open my hands and heart and let true life happen in the ripeness of its own time.

During months of self-introspection, silence and growing awareness, I developed a single list that has replaced all of the others.  It is an ongoing work that I hope to never finish and there are no items to check off.  It is a list of lessons I am learning.  Significant lessons that took way too many years to realize.  Lessons that allow for the beautiful unfurling of life.

“Why” is often irrelevant and unanswerable.  “How do I choose to respond” is what makes a true difference and allows healing and growth.

Embrace those who speak truth.

Seek the full face of God in its many forms, restoring the sacred place of the Divine Feminine in my life.

Being is infinitely more important than doing.

Silence can be priceless.  So can the sound of noisy children and garage bands.

Some books just aren’t worth finishing.  Some books should be read at least twice.

Music is one of the greatest gifts to mankind.

Friends and a good husband don’t care if you have hair.  A great husband will even shave your head and declare that this is a sexy look on you.

Always ask for pain meds if you even think the situation warrants it or if multiple needles are involved.

Some days can only be managed with rich, dark chocolate.

Some things we get through a day at a time.  Some days can only be gotten through a breath at a time.

Speaking truth from your soul is highly underrated.  Being nice is (often) highly overrated, especially when it gets in the way of truth.

There is great value and new life in losing my religion and discovering my spirituality.

There is an inner voice that most of us lose somewhere along the way and there is hardly anything in life more important than finding it and letting it always speak clearly to us.

Always dance when you have the chance.

Accept help with grace.  Offer it with love.

Always, always choose life and live it with a fierceness that recognizes the fragility and transience of it.

One last confession:  I have begun writing my grocery list again.  The family and the dog appreciate that!  But there is no Christmas list, or house list, just a few reminders on my calendar or sticky notes that occasionally get lost on my rather messy desk.  Forgotten details are a price I willingly pay.  Why?  In this overscheduled world?  This is the only life I have and the more I let go, the more I truly live.  Try it.

A Leaving

A magnificent writing spider, Charlotte, chose my front door as her home about four months ago.  We enjoyed watching this amazing creature from behind the safety of our screen door.  As the weeks went by she grew tremendously.  At least one bug would become trapped in her web almost daily.  Charlotte would move quickly from the center of her web out to the latest victim and envelop it slowly in silken threads from her own body.  She would actually spin the bug around and around while wrapping it.  My poet friend calls it “spider sausage.”  It truly is fascinating to watch for about 3 minutes, and then my husband and I turn away freaked out by the creepiness of it!  It is like watching a tragedy take place – you don’t want to see it, but you cannot turn your eyes away.

One day she wasn’t on the web anywhere.  We finally spotted her up in the corner of the transom over the front door constructing her egg sac.  It is gray and about the size of a shooting marble.  Charlotte stayed up there a few days, not moving much and quite a bit smaller in size.  I expected her to die shortly, but within two or three days we found her back on her web.  It was in sad shape, not the best trap for catching lunch.  We decided to leave the porch light on at night to help attract some food for her.  Charlotte started eating a bug now and then.  She eventually gained enough strength to rebuild the web and continue her strange writing in the center.  She grew back to her normal size.

Then one day my husband found her lying still on the porch, apparently dead. He picked her up with one of my spatulas (yes, they have all been completely scoured and sanitized now) but she wiggled her long legs and moved slowly back up the screen.  She continued to be very lethargic.

The weather turned colder that week.  Charlotte never made it all the way back up the screen to her web.  One day she was just gone, perhaps sustenance for a bird or simply blown away.

Charlotte’s egg sac is still in place.  I don’t know how long it will take for the babies to hatch.  As much as I enjoyed Charlotte, I have no desire to have hundreds of her offspring on my front porch.  Hopefully the wind and birds will help with population control and we will eventually see two or three of them next spring.

Watching a writing spider live out its methodical life is fascinating.  The beauty, ingenious creation and “circle of life” process is phenomenal to witness.  It is amazing how a small spider stealthily entered our lives and brought wonder and joy.  Every time I come up our driveway, I look for the dark spot in the center of a web up near the top of the door frame.  I keep forgetting that Charlotte is gone.

The Surprise Houseguest

I didn’t invite her.  She just showed up at my front door one day about a month ago.  She had all her belongings with her and simply made herself at home…right there…on my front door.  She was suspended between the screen door and the brick wall in all her eerie, punk-rock-like beauty – a writing spider.  Her web was a perfectly designed and executed piece of art. 

It is not very original, but I named her Charlotte after E.B. White’s Charlotte.  After a few days, I imagine that she knows it is me when I open the inner door to check on her.  She occasionally is startled when my husband approaches.  Maybe she recognizes that he is the one who wields the leaf blower way too close to her web.  And what a housekeeper she is…Charlotte keeps her web pristine, making quick repairs after her prey is caught, cocooned and turned into lunch.

Folklore says that if she writes your name you will die soon.  I prefer the alternative story that says if a woman watches the writing spider weaving in the dew of the early morning, she will see the name of the man she is going to marry.  I’ve been checking her web every morning when I come down to start the tea.  So far it looks like my next husband will be WWWVVWWVVV.  I wonder what country he will be from with a name like that?  She writes the same name every day, so I guess she is pretty convinced.

I can’t open the screen door without destroying her web and facing the possibility that she will leave for good.  The furniture delivery men looked at me askance when I told them they had to carry my recliner around the house, across the deck, through the porch and in the back door because I didn’t wish them to disturb the spider that was living on my front porch.  My guess is if they had seen her, they wouldn’t have hesitated to make a detour.  She is huge!  In fact, I am a little scared of those creepy, long legs.  If she is still around at Halloween, I won’t need to pull out the plastic spider I usually put on the front door.

As the days turn cooler, I soon expect to find an empty web, ragged from the weather and no longer awaiting reconstruction.  Charlottewill have lived most of her adult life on my front porch.  I thank my Creator for the miracle of this surprise guest.  She brought amazement and wonder to us in her brief season here.

We are on the lookout for her egg sac that will be filled with hundreds of babies.  I hope that as in Charlotte’s Web, only 3 will choose to stay.