The tyranny of things. I am packing and trying to decide what to take with me into the next phase of my life. The process annoys me.
I stood in my basement yesterday and stared long and hard at old lamp parts, pieces of wire and odd screws. My pragmatic mind could come up with many uses for each object I found. My better self screamed, "Chuck it and let's move on already!"
My better self is winning. There are four huge plastic trash bags at the curb. I feel lighter. There are more trash bags in my future.
When I worked in hospice care, I was impressed by the similarity between the black body bags used by undertakers and the black trash bags used for household waste. They differ in the thickness of the plastic. The body bag has a zipper. Otherwise, they are similar.
So, I ultimately come to the realization that I am a thing in the end. I am an animated thing, but someday, when the electromagnetic and chemical processes that animate me cease, I too will be redundant. There is liberation in this. The odd piece of wire or mismatched screw, while potentially useful, are not worth the price of my wasted time and effort. That time, while I am still alive, is more precious than any thing I can possess.
