Letting Go

Throughout much of my life, I was a hoarder—although I’d never heard that term until it entered the mainstream via television.  I was never very good at letting go of things—books, movies, music, even scraps of paper had to remain forever in my collection.  Over the past few years, however, transitioning back and forth between college, home, graduate school and back home again, and faced with an endless stretch of unemployment, I have become much better at filtering through and purging my collection.  Books, clothes, old movies—it has all found a new home in donation boxes.  I think have an inherent enjoyment of “things” but I find that when I detach memories from them—some things never had the chance to be attached and are therefore easier to toss—it’s easy to let go.  I’m not sure if it’s the best idea, but the vast majority of my college textbooks are going or already gone.  My attachment to most of them was less than nil.  I sometimes find things I saved throughout college and find they are always easily dispatched.  Thanks to digital photography, even pictures have become mere transitory snapshots of our life that sometimes only exist for seconds before being consigned to the dustbin of history.  Nearly every aspect of life has become disposable or full of built-in obsolescence.  Our memories are truly the only thing we can ever possess, and even they are subject to haziness and loss as the years drift past.

Reflections

I imagine I will wind up using the title "Reflections" for more than a few blogs since it is one of my favorite songs by The Supremes.  Anyway, through writing and editing I have become more reflective about myself and the choices I have made throughout my life.  Some were good and some were not.  Some things I should have pursued more ardently.  Some things I should have avoided completely.  At times I should have tried harder, and other times I should have simply pursued fun.


Currently listening to "No One Needs to Know" by Shania Twain

Memory Lane

Lately I have been doing a lot of traveling down memory lane—I think it’s nice to go back sometimes and remember how things used to be, how it felt to be young, what it was like when everything was brand new and every day was a fresh discovery.  By the time you reach a certain age, you become jaded and assume that there’s nothing new under the moon, nothing left to learn.  I’ve tried to paint myself as a life-long learner.  I enjoy reading something interesting, something new, something that gives me fresh perspective.  There’s always one more book to read, one more movie to see, one more place to travel, if you allow yourself to believe in possibilities. 

Currently listening to “Ordinary People” by Clay Walker

Fragile

What the events of the past few days have taught me is that life is truly fragile.  So much of life is not about having success, shining in the sun, or thriving.  Life is about our ability to endure, to be here day after day, year after year.   And there are so many obstacles and challenges and structures that try to keep us from enduring, from surviving.  Some days are peaceful and calm.  Some days you spend each and every waking moment scratching and clawing to keep your head above water.  And then other days all of the fighting to endure seems to be worth it—you have a small piece of happiness that you grasp with both hands.  Sometimes the happiness is fragile, and other times it simply endures.

Currently listening to “Never Let Me Go” by Florence + the Machine 

In Pictures

This week I have spent a lot of time going through old pictures ranging from kindergarten to high school graduation.  I have begun to see those old pictures through an unrealistic, misty gauze now.  I forget about the trials and tribulations—I smile at the happy times and I ache for all of those classmates who never made it to this part of life.  The older I get, the more I understand that life is truly fleeting and fragile—it can literally be taken away in seconds, leaving those behind to wonder what could have been.  We wonder if it is silly to hope, to dream, to wish—to believe in possibilities.  Then each morning, the sun always rises and we greet the day with renewed hope.  In pictures you see the innocence of youth, the possibilities of the past, and the promise of the future.  You see life, laid out in a rectangular tapestry.  You see the events and people who forever changed you and shaped the person you are today.