Tag Archives: stuff

Where We Are

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Now that I’ve been
nurturing hope,
repeating
“I love myself, I love myself,”
as much as possible,
moving toward
self-acceptance
and self-compassion—
I’ve been naturally drawn
to taking better care of my living space.
I’ve been decluttering the house
room by room,
taking trips to the local donation spots,
and each time I release something,
I can hear the house
sighing in relief,
breathing better.
Ahh, space.
If space is really what we need,
why do we spend some much time
accumulating things
to fill it with?
Friends,
may we stop
acquiring things
just long enough
to take a breath,
smile,
look into one another’s eyes,
and remember
where we are.

Our Stuff

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Sometimes we get caught up in our stuff.
Sometimes we identify so closely with it
that it becomes an extension of our self–
our stuff becomes us.
Sometimes we become so obsessed with acquiring things
that we lose touch with what we already have.
All of a sudden, we have so much stuff
that we can’t find anything of value
hiding in the mountains of our perceived identity.
We might even become buried alive by all this stuff.
What is an alternative to this terrifying scenario?
Let go.
The stuff is not you,
and the fear of letting go
is not as intolerable as you imagine it to be.
As you soften your grip on your stuff
you increase your handle on reality.
When you let go of illusion and open your eyes to life,
you will see that you have always had
everything you need,
and so it will be
forevermore.

It Doesn’t Matter Where I Sit

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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
clean
open
space
to create a place to sit with my family
and perhaps share
a moment of meditation.

This morning,
I said,
Okay now,
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.

Then lunch,
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
for tomorrow.
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.