Maria has almost finished stacking the two cords of wood we had delivered. I fussed about this, I thought we should hire somebody to do it, but she wanted to do it and needed to do it.

It upset me to see her work so hard, but I realized that was really selfish, not selfless, as so many things we fret over are. I felt guilty because I could only help her in a limited way, and I am disturbed when I feel I’m not contributing to the care of the farm.

As I write this, I clearly see the folly and shallowness of this, it is all about me, not her. She loves to stack wood and loves working outdoors. So there it is. I let go of it.

She says she wants to get help as the summer wears on, and the temperatures rise, and I have a good person ready to come and help. I can contribute that way.

So I just backed off of it. She was not asking my advice or needing my help. Honestly, it was none of my business. More of the unwanted advice I dislike.

Today and yesterday I went outside with her and tossed as many logs to her as my back and legs would allow.  She worries about me doing that, but she doesn’t say anything about it. She lets me be me.

I brushed the debris and kindling into a big pile I told her she was doing a great job. What I did when I thought about it was to follow my new and deepening mantra: “let it be.”

I did as much as I could – more than I thought I could – and came in to work. And then make dinner for us.

It wasn’t the Beatles song that has inspired me to let it be, it was something Paul Tillich the philosopher wrote about accepting our smallness and short life in this world, and learning to let go of things.

To just let them be. I am saying this to myself more and more these days, and it feels very good. We are living our lives. Let it be.

I learn something about myself every day on the farm. Some of it is even good. I see that learning is a form of oxygen to me, a nourishment. I will never stop learning more, but I know I will never learn enough.