On What Is Worth Keeping
On the floor in front of me is a small stack of a books, a collection of crystals, a note my mother once wrote me and a pair of velvet shoes. These are the extraneous things I am keeping. Everything else that is not essential has to go and all of that is sitting behind me. Piece by piece you got to take your life apart in order to reorder things properly. There simply isn’t room for all of this aboard the ship. There simply is not room for you either.
I read something I wrote a year ago today, On Sacrifice, and it’s frightening how similar my feelings today are to those back then. I had a tarot card reading in the park a year ago and the six of swords said that if I didn’t change my behavioral patterns I’d keep on learning the same lesson over and over again. It took a year for me to change, even just a little. I had the same reading in the same park by a woman who was older and this year it told me I could have everything I want so long as I let you go.
Someone at breakfast the other morning told me, that often times the hardest choices aren’t choices at all because they’re already made for you.
People will teach you over and over again what kind of person they are. And only you can learn the lessons for you.
Three weeks ago my father almost died. I’ve been feeling outside myself since that early morning on the golden mountain top when the call came through. And the funny thing is I’d just looked at my lover and I thought to myself, this is perfect. But you know what Joan says about all that. Lately I feel like a science experiment all dissected and laid out on the table for people to poke and prod and analyze. My father started talking a lot about things he thought he should have done differently.
I do not want this part of my life to be one of those things I talk about like that.
I went though a phase where this leaving of Idaho, this right now, these last ten days was a scary thing. I wanted to hold on to a life raft, something familiar, something that used to be kind. I wanted to not drown in this change and the fear of death that has been following me around all the time. But the things we once kept, the boxes in the garage, we find are not things we need anymore. They are not things that heal or things that bring joy, they are just things now. And because of this they have to be left behind. And so do you.