Cluttered places, cluttered minds

I finally did it. That one box in the garage that has been tightly sealed for years is now gone. I was keeping it because I thought the contents had value, either real or just sentimental.

After I went through it with a realistic and open mind, I shipped most of it off to goodwill.

I have no regrets.

I suspect you are a little like me. Getting rid of things isn’t always easy. I’m not like those unbelievable people on television who have to call a reality show to help get to the bottom of the pile. I watched that once and it was too painful to watch again. Stacks of stuff, often for the sake of the collection itself, everywhere. People who cannot sleep on their bed because it is stacked with unsorted clothes. It makes my few boxes seem tame.

But there still is something to be said for holding on to our possessions, long after their shelf life has expired.  Over my life, I’ve kept treasures in the garage and the basement. The closet, too

Some of it is obviously junk. Other things remind me of days gone by. I recently went through a box of balls in the shed. Baseballs, kickballs, soccer balls and basketballs. There’s no one home anymore to play. The boys are a thousand miles a way and nary a grandchild on the way. Holding on to these balls reminded me of the thousands of hours we spent, tramping down the grass, laughs and shrieks piercing the air. Silence hangs now. Time to let another little boy play catch with his dad.

Some of these treasures remind me of past victories. I kept that third place trophy from the Pinewood derby for decades. I was nine at the time. But my dad and I worked on that car until the wee hours of the morning of the race. We won it together and getting rid of the trophy seemed like invalidating the event. The cheap plastic momento is now gone, but the victory is not forgetten.

Like a cluttered house, a mind cluttered with the past leaves no room for anything new. If my mind is filled with memories of failed relationships, deserted friends and family members who have disappeared, then I don’t leave room  for the new.

There are those times when the boxes should be put in the bin at the back of the second hand store and never thought of again.

Please, share with a friend if you feel moved.
Read all past issues at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidrupert