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I've been making lists.
There's a sad and funny page in Sabrina Ward Harrison's art journal "Messy Thrilling Life" that I've had open for a few days now, face up by the sofa, illustrating what I don't want to feel but have seen creeping into my thinking anyway:
"The first thirty-four things on my mind today:
Instead of enjoying the excitement of the unknown, I've been drowning in the need to "make the most of everything" and "get things straight" and "work out what I'm doing". Which is a pretty massive task for a weekend to-do list.
Thankfully, I've been reminded in conversation with an old friend that everything is already right. This stumbling around is good. These growing pains are good. There is something special in the vulnerability that comes from not knowing what we're doing.
So I'm trying to reclaim the list as a tool to point me towards adventure and new ways to fill my time with things that energise and inspire me. And more importantly, I'm reclaiming the truth that I don't really have to do anything. I am already enough. My foundations are solid. Forgiveness, hope, assurance - all the important things that make life meaningful are already taken care of: it is finished.