This is one of those late September mornings with fog close to the ground, yet clear skies and sun above so all appears shrouded in golden mist. It will be a matter of minutes until the moist air dries and the mist evaporates but in the meantime I can marvel in the surrounding gilded fog bath.
Every morning and every evening I have water tank filling duty as one of my farm chores. As this is a portable tank, which goes into whichever field the horses go, we simply fill it using a hose that stretches from the barn, rather than investing in automatic watering systems. It doesn't sound very efficient but standing with a hose filling a 40 gallon tank 10 minutes twice a day has its upsides. It is a good time to reflect on the day that is dawning and the day that is wrapping up. I scan the fields and trees, survey the fences, and deeply suck in fresh air. In short, it's a time to fill up my own tank as I'm feeling "dry" too. Some weeks bring more to contemplate than others.
This was a week where my split second decision while moving horses on my farm, in an effort to save time, resulted in significant injuries to two of my horses. Saving a moment has resulted in untold future hours of wrapping wounds, a pile in vet bills, and my own guilty shame in making a poor decision in haste. So now I force myself to stand and realize that a few saved minutes, a misplaced sense of control over things and just plain lack of common sense is never worth the cost to be paid. It is fool's gold, as transient and blinding as the fog this morning and just as ephemeral.
The "what if's", "if onlys", and "shouldas" in my life are dehydrating all on their own, only causing more misery the longer I dwell on them. So I dive into the tank that is filling up in front of me and drink deeply: bathed, saturated, and washed clean in "what is" and "what will be", not "what should have been". I will be surrounded, if I choose to accept it, by deep wells of forgiveness and all will be well.
It is a tank always full and freely given, never running dry.
