I remember the day that changed my attitude about my stuff.
I returned from a weekend away to find that a freak "100 year storm" (the first of four in five years, as it turned out) had backed water up into my basement, lifted the boxes from a recent move, and scattered them throughout the basement as it drained away, leaving everything soaked through.
I know. It's not a good idea to keep irreplaceable stuff in the basement in Wisconsin. I don't do it any more. But, I want to say that I considered myself lucky. Many people had rain come up into their living area that summer; many of them were still trying to pump it out days later. Some people lost their entire house. My basement was mostly unfinished, so there was no carpeting or furniture to deal with.
But...my stuff! The next day, I stood, bewildered, on the driveway, where I was attempting to dry some things. In the 98 degree 99% humidity typical post-storm Wisconsin day, it wasn't going well. Some of it could be saved, and some would be easy to replace. But also scattered in front of me were photo albums from my time in Australia, funny notes that my friends and I had written to each other in high school (really!), Beatle photos, posters and trading cards personally autographed by me in a forged version of each Beatle's handwriting, scrap books, diaries, journals --I began journaling when I was 7 years old--, ticket stubs (including one to the Beatles concert in Milwaukee priced at $4.50) and mementos...you get the idea. I had painstakingly saved all of this stuff over the years and through numerous moves, including to Australia and back.
If anyone had tried to persuade me to let go of all that before the storm, there's no way I would have done so. ALL of it fell into the category of "I need it AND I love it". I guess I thought I needed it to remember all of the fun times and good friends that I've had over the years, because if I don't have the stuff, I might not remember, and if I don't remember, maybe it didn't really happen.
Of course, I had no choice. It all had to go. I was pretty upset for about five minutes. Then I realized NOTHING WOULD CHANGE without the stuff. Maybe I wouldn't be able to open the box and wander down memory lane about once every five or ten years, but for the most part, I wouldn't notice its absence. And there would be extra space where the boxes had been.
I really believe all experiences are sent to bring us lessons (although I have learned people don't appreciate hearing this when they are in the midst of a particularly difficult lesson). When my basement flooded, I learned the value of letting go, being unattached to possessions and, by extension, to outcome. It's made my life happier, easier and simpler. As it turns out, those great memories were not in the boxes after all--they were in my heart, and still are. At least I think they are. If they're not, I don't miss them!
But...my stuff! The next day, I stood, bewildered, on the driveway, where I was attempting to dry some things. In the 98 degree 99% humidity typical post-storm Wisconsin day, it wasn't going well. Some of it could be saved, and some would be easy to replace. But also scattered in front of me were photo albums from my time in Australia, funny notes that my friends and I had written to each other in high school (really!), Beatle photos, posters and trading cards personally autographed by me in a forged version of each Beatle's handwriting, scrap books, diaries, journals --I began journaling when I was 7 years old--, ticket stubs (including one to the Beatles concert in Milwaukee priced at $4.50) and mementos...you get the idea. I had painstakingly saved all of this stuff over the years and through numerous moves, including to Australia and back.
If anyone had tried to persuade me to let go of all that before the storm, there's no way I would have done so. ALL of it fell into the category of "I need it AND I love it". I guess I thought I needed it to remember all of the fun times and good friends that I've had over the years, because if I don't have the stuff, I might not remember, and if I don't remember, maybe it didn't really happen.
Of course, I had no choice. It all had to go. I was pretty upset for about five minutes. Then I realized NOTHING WOULD CHANGE without the stuff. Maybe I wouldn't be able to open the box and wander down memory lane about once every five or ten years, but for the most part, I wouldn't notice its absence. And there would be extra space where the boxes had been.
I really believe all experiences are sent to bring us lessons (although I have learned people don't appreciate hearing this when they are in the midst of a particularly difficult lesson). When my basement flooded, I learned the value of letting go, being unattached to possessions and, by extension, to outcome. It's made my life happier, easier and simpler. As it turns out, those great memories were not in the boxes after all--they were in my heart, and still are. At least I think they are. If they're not, I don't miss them!
Create Order
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