I am trying to keep my heart open. I am trying to see the value in the process. I am trying not to have a nervous breakdown at the very thought of having to pack up everything I own.
Again.
This is an opportunity to unburden myself. This move--is it number 28? 30?--is a gift; a chance to think about the role that my possessions play in my life. This is a time to run my fingers over the binding of a book, recall the joy I felt submerging myself in that world, to feel again the way my heart pounded when the heroine was in danger; and then to let it go into the bag for donations. A moment in which to hold each bowl, each running medal, each crazy little Virgin de Guadalupe tchotchke (and how is that for a multi-cultural reference?) and really see it, sometimes for the first time in ages. If they are covered with dust, unused and unloved, then they should go in the hopes that they can bring beauty or joy to someone else. This move represents a time to release the anxious grasp on material things.
Oh, who am I kidding? This move is a pain, and I'm half inclined to burn the joint to the ground.
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