Stuff, stuff and more stuff!
There is no end to the stuff!
Stuff that was left behind
when he walked away from our life together,
and now I get to sort through all of it.
Years of the content I created as a yoga teacher,
in binders, in bins.
Bins of fabric and yarn.
Books, books and more books.
Clothes and shoes.
Random bits of this and that…
Plus the household stuff.
Is there no end?
I’m am so exhausted.
But there is still more stuff.
I began the day in prayer,
turning it over,
asking God for guidance.
I felt good, knowing
everything would be ok.
The morning sun
gilded every leaf on the trees outside my window
and the autumn sky was a powdery blue
so soft it nearly broke my heart.
I moved and moved and moved more stuff
from my old house into my new.
I worked and worked and worked.
By evening my mind was worn,
my temper was hot
and I didn’t want to do one more thing for anybody.
Then I wondered if the struggle between good and evil,
darkness and light,
was really a stuggle between
the fresh mind of a person newly awakened
and the tired mind of a person ready for sleep…
Fresh, clean kids are asleep
in their fresh, clean sheets…
And even though I’m crazy tired,
I’m kind of wired,
walking around in wonder
that this has finally happened.
Our own place.
Our own memories.
A new chapter,
untainted by the one
who almost broke me.
I lit a candle,
made a cup of tea
and am settling down cozily
to read and muse
and feel so much gratitude.
We moved! We moved! We moved!
And I am moved
by the moving, by the help received,
by the sheer quantity of stuff,
being forced to look at all of it,
make decisions—stay or go?
Intentionally setting up nooks of creativity,
creating a sewing studio in the basement—
this has been a DREAM…
And now, it’s coming true,
because I choose, I choose,
to live the dream,
to move and be moved
by this wonderful life
to trust, to love,
to jump, to open
I made many, many trips between my old house and my new house today
Loading the Prius with box after box of books,
then fabric, then toys.
The most important things are over there now…
Meditation cushion, singing bowl,
guitar, journal, pens, crystals…
But here we are still, at our old place,
Because the biggest things are here.
Then it occurs to me…actually,
The most important things are not things,
But my beautiful children,
who daily remind me what life is all about.
I’m grateful for the opportunity to be with them tonight…
Knowing that in the in-between place,
We still have each other.
Ok, so, I’m moving…
And, well, I have a house full of stuff…
And, I’ve barely done any packing…
And…it’s all ok.
I woke up asking
What would Life feel like if I didn’t have to be in control?
I also asked
What would I feel like if I knew my own worth?
In the contemplative tradition,
these questions stayed deeply with me throughout the day.
While I was driving, or tidying, or teaching a yoga class,
or fixing dinner, or bringing another car load of stuff to my new home…
I kept asking these questions,
and as I asked, I simply felt peace.
It’s as if something has unlocked inside me,
and it’s something that has been waiting for a long time.
Could it be my true nature, yearning to express itself,
always being pushed into the shadows
by the illusions of control and inadequacy?
Now, as I contemplate the shadows,
it’s as if my eyes can see through the veil
to what has been waiting all along:
my Self, peaceful, whole and complete.
The piles of
the stuff we had moved
during our move
that hadn’t yet
been put away
in our new home
were weighing heavily
on my mind and heart and soul–
and they were just looking terrible,
sitting there, doing nothing,
out in plain sight.
I was wanting a bright
to create a place to sit with my family
and perhaps share
a moment of meditation.
let’s just do this,
and I began moving the stuff.
I moved the piles out of my chosen corner.
I vacuumed, mopped,
and felt full of hope and promise
as I surveyed the luminous space.
and things went downhill from there.
Both kids were fussy, needy,
vocal, pushy with each other,
whiny to me.
By mid afternoon I was losing it
and by bedtime
I could barely contain my fury.
I was just glad my husband came home.
Glad to take a shower.
The consecration of
my chosen space will wait
Tonight I sit in the makeshift space
in my bedroom
right by my closet doors.
Earplugs, hat pulled over my eyes,
old kitty caterwauling,
none of this matters.
It doesn’t matter where I sit.
I just matters that I sit.
Move the boxes,
unpack the stuff.
Try to find places
for all the stuff.
Space runs out quickly.
Why do I have so much stuff?