Time to Dig
I’ve been obsessing about living room clutter and leggings while there’s digging to be done. It is what it is. This weekend I get to dig. Literally. Finally.
A friend of mine is one of the organizers at the Santa Barbara Bucket Brigade, a spontaneous fluid group of volunteers who have been digging out people’s homes, land, driveways, streets. I’ve known this and I thought it was great for HER to do that. She’s a contractor so I figured she was used to labor that required work boots, and getting dirty. Not like me.
Then another person I know, a realtor/dancer, told me she was digging and I thought, “Well she’s younger than I am, and doesn’t have kids, so good for her, but that’s not for me.” But the thing is she isn’t that much younger, she might even be exactly my age, and she does have kids.
Then I was talking to another friend about her son’s school raising money for kids in third world countries but this year they were thinking of giving some of it to Montecito. I said, well it would be great if they’d consider Ax’s school, or my other favorite is the Bucket Brigade. And she said, “Oh my husband and his friends went digging with them.”
And I thought, “What the what? I’m little miss doing for others is the path to joy and yet here I’ve been scared, in my own drama, feeling crummy, thinking of my troubles instead of taking this very low hanging fruit opportunity to help others.” What a gift! I get to literally help us dig out. Us. It’s a we thing, this living on Earth, at this time. I know that. But I need you to remind me. Thank goodness I’m given the reminders regularly. Sometimes I even notice them.
I’m gonna keep going.