We are counting down the hours until the yard sale begins. A few days ago we were running behind, but now we are nearing the finish line. Looking out over a sea of tables and stuff, I wonder about the things we label as important. Why have we kept all of this stuff? There are still more tubs and boxes out there of things that we didn't want to get rid of.
These are boxes full of memories, but they have been sitting, forgotten in the dark. My memories are no less vivid. Even if I had the room to house all of these things, I don't want to. There is no place for them, but how to keep the memories? So I will take pictures of things before they sell, put them on facebook, and add them to my box of keepsakes that have yet to be organized. Someday, someone might find them, the jumbled pieced of my life and wonder at their significance.
We keep so much, either because it meant something to us, or was too expensive to replace or get rid of. I am thinking a lot about what we leave behind. For someone who will have to box my processions and hand over those important items to friends and family there is no way to tell what is significant, and what is not. For someone on the outside, nothing and everything is full of potential meaning. My sister said she had read something that said just that; because they didn't know what was important, everything was.
We carry so much with us that it can become a burden. It is the life style to which we wish to become accustomed and yet it is a constant trial. We acquire more; we need to maintain it, clean it, care for it. It takes our time and money and yet we are happy for more. There is never enough.
Anyway, though my mind is contemplating the lightness of a minimalistic life, I know myself. I will continue to collect what I like, what I love. The need for balance between what I have and what I want, and what I need is apparent. Because the truth is simple; in the end, we can't take it with us.
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