Items 1-100, or the tenacity of the many tentacled things
Isn’t it curious how things can sink themselves in so deep that we can no longer see them for what they are? They stake a claim on the territory they occupy and then they hunker down, confident in their ability to take up space.
I wish I felt half so bold.
Their clever selves clutter the mental and physical, they tell lies like “I am proof of love” “I am the person you loved” and even “I need your love.”
Goodbye leather horse from Rome.
Who flew on the wings
of borrowed lungs.
Cystic Fibrosis survivor,
Goodbye paper cranes
creased by my favorite pair of long fingered hands.
The strange hooks of the suggestion of belonging tread lightly on the surface but burrow deep. A tentative memory that skitters along, claiming ground, justifying its presence.
A ceramic horse from Japan feels like a gift from someone beloved,
if only I could remember who.The gift of a signed book, bound in red cloth.
Too precious to read,
or to let go.
And yet, I have let go.
The first of the 7800.
I’ve finally come to a place where I’m ready to tackle those things in my life that no longer serve. A switch has flipped, and I’ve reached a point where I understand that in order to move forward, to take ground on what is really important, I’m going to have to let a lot of things go.
In the past I’ve let myself get tangled up in the feelings of things, the logistics of responsible disposal, the fear of not having enough.
Now, I feel more abundance in my life than I ever have, and I feel safe enough to say good bye.
I’ve committed to 7800 things, and I’m looking forward to the freedom that comes with letting go.