sometimes it's hard to let go of the past. but letting go makes room for the future. this is what i've been meditating on lately, as i go through my boxes of belongings, as i go through stuff to get rid of stuff. it feels good to let go, sometimes. but often it's hard, and it hurts. i've even seen a friend clutch her stomach in pain to think of losing some thing. but it's just a thing, and there are so many worthwhile things in this world; things to fill space, physical manifestations of human ingenuity and imagination, waiting right behind, waiting at the gates, waiting their turn to infiltrate your life.
i've learned over time, this pain of loss, it's a temporary suffering that is followed by a release, a new kind of freedom, space where there was physical and emotional claustrophobia. i know and i've seen: stuff can swallow you up. each object holds a potential memory, a feeling, and when you surround yourself with physical manifestations of memories, sometimes all you end up with is a cluttered mind and heart. so lately, as boxes upon boxes have left the premises to be turned over by other hands, i've been meditating on space, and the freedoms letting go will grant me.
take this little stuffed bear for example. seemingly insignificant. he was in the fifty cent bin at a rummage sale on the patio of the old dairy farm house up the street. james picked it up, gave it a good once-over. look at that face, i can't leave him here, he said, and brought it home. adorned with an embroidered tag that says pooky, made in 1983, the bear was obviously loved well in it's lifetime. it's smooshed face with too-close-together eyes looked like it had been snuggled and kissed and drooled upon by dogs and cats and babies alike. this little guy had a story to tell, and james couldn't resist. he put down his fifty cents, brought him home to put in our toy chest, so kids who came to our place could play with him.
when faythe came to the lucky d later that afternoon from her yard sale and saw pooky in our toy chest, she keyed right in on that little face. that was mine when i was little she said. but she decided to let go, to pass it on, say goodbye. maybe it was hard. i'm sure she was surprised to see it again, just a few hours later. i'm so glad it's here. this is the perfect place for it, she said. and i'm glad too.