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.
Back and forth
and back and forth
between the two worlds.
And slowly what was before
is transferred over to what is now.
If I keep taking this stuff with me
wherever I go,
I’ll keep having the same experiences
over and over and over.
I’m ready for something different,
but I need to learn to let go.
I can hear the shaming voice,
the one who blames me,
who tells me I never get anything right.
And then I need to just sit and breathe
I can’t get this wrong.
No matter what happens,
life will hold me.
Can I surrender into this infinite embrace,
and just allow what is to be?
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.
Now that I’ve been
“I love myself, I love myself,”
as much as possible,
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,
If space is really what we need,
why do we spend some much time
to fill it with?
may we stop
just long enough
to take a breath,
look into one another’s eyes,
where we are.
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?
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
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.