Deadlines

I catch myself thinking that when this happens, or that happens, then everything will work out right.  I know this is not true.  I set deadlines or meet deadlines and find myself on the other side saying : Now what?  I passed the CADC (now what?).  I will be able to drive again on March 15 barring no new seizures (looking more and more likely) (then what?...)  It*s not magic, Catharine, I say.  Funny, I know this.  I don*t believe in magic or knocking on wood or lining everything up just so everything will go well.  It*s amazing to me how strong the illusion is that I*m in control.  The crocus and the redwings are small signs I*m not.  

Deadlines are not everything

They*re cracked up to be.

They*re anything

But magic and I don*t believe in magic

Anyway.

When the ducks are all lined up

In a pretty quacking row

Talking in turn,

Eating in turn,

Taking off one after another after another,

Then oh then each and everyone and all

Will know his place

Her place.

The ice won*t trip me up.

My brain*s electricity will travel

In an orderly fashion

From synapse to synapse.

I shall remain upright.

At 8 AM on March 15

I will drive and make appointments in distant places

Without consulting

My very patient driver.

Serendipity shows its face

In wonderful surprising ways.

There may be crocus peering

Through the snow.

The redwings may return,

Trees full of redwings.

Still

Deadlines are not everything

We were told once and long ago.

Serendipity enters in fits and starts.

It does not fit prescribed order.

It dances with the deadlines.

Sometimes it brings unwanted things.

We have to figure out

How to grab them on the fly

Wrestle them to the ground

In the dark.

Win or lose it doesn*t matter.

They too are not magic things.

I am told we don*t believe in magic

Anyway.