A moment of revelation: in all this swaying back and forth about where I should live, Canada or the UK, wondering why the decision between staying and going is so difficult, it dawns on me. I’m here, because my stuff is here. I am so attached to my stuff that it keeps me stuck. The attachment bonds me. The weight of it makes it too heavy to shift, too complicated move, too emotional to release. So, I stay put, hemmed in by materialism that has no meaning or depth other than the thoughts I have assigned to them.
I am a nomad at heart: desiring to move, travel and experience places, people, situations, and possibilities. As a nomad, I’d carry very little. With all that I’ve accumulated, no wonder travel is so difficult.
In meditation, I confronted the feeling to ‘stay’. Spirit humoured me, and said: “Should we help you by burning it down?” (to make the load lighter, easier for me to leave). This made me smile. Sure, I could cremate pieces in a kind of ritual of significance, a symbol of transformation. Or, I could leave it all for someone else to pick through and trash. (I’ve resisted this idea, thinking I couldn’t bear the disrespect that entails, as if it would be personal. Yet, at the same time, I’m aware of industries that rape the earth for resources, the epitamy of disrespect, and I sit by, watching, doing nothing. How can my art, my books, compare to that kind of blatant murder?)
Does it really matter what happens to my stuff or how it ‘goes’? “You can’t take it with you” in the ultimate ‘leaving’ (the planet), so why worry about taking it with you now from A to B? Why allow it to stop you from doing anything? It doesn’t really stop you at all!
I’m here because my stuff is here, and now that I’m aware of that, I can change that. I have to detach from the stuff in order to really be free, in order to move on. This means eliminating my responsibility for it, however that may occur. Emotionally letting go of my stuff will allow me to be truly free to be me, unhindered, and able to go anywhere, anytime. Truly.