Saturday, December 8, 2012
on letting go
When I was a child, I used to save shiny little candy wrappers in an old shoe box. Mostly made of colored foil, I would take care not to rip the wrapper when removing the candy. I'd then smooth the foil out gently, admire it, and place it in my treasure box. It seems many of us have a tendency to want to keep or hold onto beautiful things or things we find uniquely special. I hardly even looked at my wrappers, but there was comfort knowing I rescued something beautiful from the trash, and that it was mine.
Possessions - how easily and innocently they turn into comfort or obsessions. And how much fiercer we tend to cling to them as we age, perhaps most especially those things which aren't meant to stay with us forever.
We recently harvested one of the meat-birds-turned-layers who was becomming unhealthfully fat. It was a bit difficult for me, as I honestly just wanted to keep her around because she was so different-looking (the only darker one of the bunch) and special that way. Harvesting animals is certainly an exercise in letting go.
Why do we feel we must have something in hand to carry it with us? The intangible aspects, like a memory, just don't seem the same. We want the baggage. Or at least, I used to. But I'm finding with this lifestyle of less is more, that I'm becomming more at ease with the passing of things/beings/seasons - time - and less enamored with what was. For somehow we must carry all these experiences in our bones, even if we can't readily recall all the moments of our past. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that it's truly the present that matters, and that living in that doesn't negate the past or hinder the future, like at one time I thought it might.