How much do we carry?

Thoughts as we move closer to a new year

What to carry forward…

My PCA (personal care assistant) just left from our time together today. While she was helping me set up for my work (I need assistance preparing for the projects I work on each day), we rearranged my desk (again). I shared my frustration with having too many items in front of me. Items that only get in the way of my work.

This led us to a conversation about all the stuff in our lives—stuff we collect on purpose and stuff that accumulates!

Right now, I am in a time of transition and living with a dear friend and her family. I have a bedroom with all my bedroom stuff and a room with my desk and all my work stuff. In that room, I am surrounded by bookcases.

But! I also have a whole apartment in storage—a rented space that holds parts of my life I thought to be beloved and necessary. That 10 x 10 storage unit has held these items for over two years.

I think about the things being stored. I love Christmas. Beautiful ornaments and other Christmasy things are in boxes intentionally set by the storage door for easy retrieval. (All that Christmas beauty is probably wondering where the heck I am!).

It is filled with furniture, art, books, and documents that represent my life and work for the last 30+ years and before.

After two years, the perspective has begun to shift. Will I ever again move into a place large enough to accommodate all of my stored belongings? Are these the things I really need to keep?.

These objects fill boxes- heavy boxes. But these boxes also carry emotional weight. Do I hold these objects as proof of my existence, sometimes with pride and other emotions? Do I hold these objects thinking my loved ones will appreciate them as I did? (Really? What if they don’t feel the connection to these objects I have hoped they would? Am I settling myself up for a confusing sense of rejection! As if the deep love felt for each of us isn’t enough.)

That’s a lot to consider! … and so my thoughts return to this cluttered desk, where my assistant and I moved objects around as if it were a chessboard. I begin to consolidate and throw things away, feeling the satisfaction of lightening this load—feeling the relief of seeing actual desk space.

This simple act encourages me to go ahead and face the storage unit—beginning the process of sorting through my “one wild and precious life” with gratitude and prayers for patience!

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Quote: taken from a poem, The Summer Day “ by Mary Oliver.