Things
I keep thinking about things. All the things I’ve owned over my entire life. All the stuff. So many things. In this moment I’m aware of all the books, art supplies, clothing items, shoes, cds, dvds, bicycles, art pieces, kitchen gadgets, decorative knick knacks, garden/yard doo dads. Granted, in recent years I have slowed my collecting impulses way down. I don’t need any more kitchen, decorative, or garden items. I don’t buy cds or dvds (or video tapes or vinyl records, for that matter). I buy very few books these days but I am a regular library patron. I do still buy clothing items but a lot less than I did when I was employed. Even in those days I didn’t have a large wardrobe but it is even smaller now. Now I buy locally and infrequently and I often make do with what I have.
But. Things. Back to things. I am surrounded by things. Some of them are useful. Others are for “just in case”. A not small handful are about nostalgia, memory, “those were the days” moments. Eventually I will part ways with all the things. I think about that often these days. When I leave the planet, the things will still be here. And when I die, I want to leave very few things behind.
It’s hard to let go of some things. Sometimes when things are discarded, they take with them hopes, plans, possibility. When they leave, I ache. I can feel the dampness in my eyes and the sting in my chest. The awareness of this reaction is often enough to make me put the thing back on the shelf (for the moment).
I currently have a house that can accommodate the “just in case” items but, as time disappears me, I don’t care about the “just in case” items. I can make do if I run into a “just in case” situation. I look around with poignant eyes at the memories, the promises, the long ago days reflected in many of the things. I guess I think by holding onto stuff, I will still have yesterday. Clearly not true.
After both of my parents died, my siblings and I cleaned out their home. I felt sad to send things that mattered to them to the Goodwill or, worse, to the landfill. The things were the physical evidence of their presence here on the plant. My things are also the material evidence that I exist here in this moment. But everything changes. Everything eventually goes away. The process of letting go of anything - hopes, plans, loved ones, careers, youth, children, stuff - none of that letting go is easy. At this point, I find myself not wanting to acquire any more anything (including plans) because I don’t want the heartbreak of letting go.
I tell myself, “Breathe. You don’t have to do anything right now. Just notice the things that are around you. It’s okay to treasure some and to toss some. Everything is temporary. Stay curious.”
Surely I am not alone in these reflections. Most thoughtful people must have similar feelings. They must also wonder about about the things in their lives. Any musings to share?
Articles and thoughts like these are hard for me to read quite honestly. I understand the sentiments, at least historically, but they have very different meanings to me now. After having lost everything in a fire (except what was in my bag for a kayak trip) I've had to think a lot about what separates me from folks who haven't experienced that kind of loss, who get to choose or even struggle with what to keep and what to let go-- those who have pictures of their childhood, or their children's childhood, or Christmas ornaments that bring back thoughts of family gatherings, the beautiful needlepoint covering my mother made for my piano bench, the piano my father gave me for my 9th birthday, just a year before he died...the list goes on. I feel more akin to those refugees who've had to pick up suddenly and leave everything for political and safety reasons. But without it all, I seem to still exist (as far as I can tell) and my memories and family relationships survive. I now try (and often fail) to no longer accumulate things with meaning. My relationship with the world and the things in it has fundamentally changed.
One item I can't see myself not having: a T-shirt showing the Buddha and his (supposed) quote "let that shit go."
A harsh delivery but true nonetheless. Choose to enjoy things and let them go. Giving them a departure that brings hope, fun, or utility to someone else is my current focus.