You are not your fucking khakis.

Today was a very large step in my on going spiritual journey. I had a junk service haul away about 75% of my worldly possessions today. I was fine as they started loading the truck but then I heard something glass shatter. That sound of something breaking triggered a panic attack. I wanted to tell them to stop, to pull things off the truck and check through again. I couldn’t stand the idea of giving up something useful, valuable, or sentimental. I left them to their work, which thankfully they did strikingly fast. I still can’t get past the image of my beloved skateboard on the end of the truck. I used that thing almost everyday in college. The board was under my feet while I explored the DC metro area. So many adventures had on that board, so many revelations and isolated moments of peace with each kick push. And here I am abandoning it.

But I had already abandoned it years ago. Ever since I moved back to Florida, it has sat in a garage and waited as I passed it by to use my car or my bicycle. Passed over for more efficient, more practical means of transport. I abandoned that board and dozens of other beloved objects long ago. But now by giving these things to a service that is able to donate so much of what they take in, they have a chance to make an impact in the life of the life of the next person that finds them.

And with this clutter gone there is now room for enlightenment. Space in my mind to grow and nurture ideas. to think about life, the universe, and everything, and not about the things I have sort, clean, and put away. Just in writing this I realize how silly my attachment to things truly is. Why do we love objects? They cannot love us back. The skateboard was not the source of the joy I had attached to it, but the experiences it reminded me of. Those memories will exist whether or not the board does. It is not going to hurt the feelings of my toys if I give them away. I owe nothing to the art projects I start and never finish. Objects cannot judge me, only I do that. I am made up of my actions, my commitments, my principles, not by books I will never read. If fire consumed my home, taking all the things I consider important, I wouldn’t stop existing. I would still be a strong, confident, independent woman. I am loved and admired for who I am, not for how many underground metal albums from the early millenia I have.

Tyler Durden would be so proud.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s