All Things Great & Small

Someone
recently
said to me,
"Just throw
all that junk
away, honey,
you don't need
all that stuff."





But it wasn't that simple. It never has been, for me, nor ever would be. The things that he was referring to was all the boxes that I had been carrying around, from place to place, since my husband had passed away three years ago. Correction. Many of the boxes I'd been carrying around since I'd left home at age 19, starting out on my own. I'm talking about the sort of boxes that I couldn't bare to put into storage, along with most of my other things, things I wanted near me, things of the heart, during these confusing and displaced times. All of the boxes were not my husband's stuff. Agreed, most of that did need to be thrown away, as I had not previously been able to throw away even a scrap with his handwriting on it... and he was the note scribbler from hell. Imagine. On the other hand, a portion of the boxes contained my own things... things which I had collected from an early age, like momentos and bits of poetry, bits of artwork, music, music, music, and books, books, books. Throw away the boxes, without even looking? Throw away poems written when my kids were small? Another portion of the boxes contained communications between myself and my late husband... things which were almost journal-like, in reflecting our lives separately, as well as together. Things communicated before we came together, about ourselves, as individuals... and then after, as a couple. Things written just two days before his passing. There are too many links there... some missing, some more recently found. No, I'd never throw those away.

I'm a firm believer that the state of ones surroundings is a state of one's own mind. I admit, the state that I'd been living in, soon after his passing, was not a pretty one. And part of sorting out the mind entails sorting out the bits and pieces that remain. Sorting through these things was not a small thing... it was a great thing... great, as in huge. It was a near impossible task. I was like an ant trying to reach the top of Mt. Everest. I had not quite learned the art of detachment, that would allow me to reach the summit with the least amount of effort as was possible.

Speaking of detachment, I've been reading an interesting piece called The Fire Within. I wish I knew the author, but it was copied from the net, who knows how long ago, or from where. It's a piece, basically, about being a Spiritual Warrior. It's teaching one how to become and remain centered, basically, through six elements: control, discipline, forbearance, timing, will... and, an influence from outside oneself, the petty tyrant. Petty tyrant, you say??? A petty tyrant is described as a tormentor, someone who holds the power of life and death over you... or simply annoys one to distraction, which is the same thing, since falling prey to one can destroy an otherwise good life. I surely could have used these writings before I was laid off! Truthfully, I had been aware of the petty tyrant thing going on. We referred to it, there, as bullying. I feel as though I failed that test of time, because I actually got laid off before I had the chance to leave, on my own. It's as if the Creator had pity on me (I refer to it as a Blessing, to save face) and took care of the matter, for me... forcing me to go, before I got my ass good and whooped. Trust me, it had been whooped well. Anyway, let's not tarry there, skipping along, where was I?

In Part 5 of these writings, the author places significant importance on deep, unemotional realizations. I do have deep realizations, but can't say that they aren't always unemotional, alas. Which is confusing, in this adaptation, because in Part I it says that, "there is no completeness without sadness and longing, for without them there is no sobriety, no kindness...wisdom without kindness and knowledge without sobriety are useless." How can one experience sadness and longing without being emotional, I ask? I think the author may have tripped over his own words, unless he was talking about feeling the sadness and longing, getting over it, and never returning there again... in which case I trip over my own. What, no nostalgia? Anyway, the article negates self-importance as being our worst enemy. It only makes sense, as we become weakened when we feel offended. Reality is an interpretation, afterall... the reality of 'what's really going on, here', kinda thing... like, it's not really about how well I do my work, in what order, at any given moment... rather, how well I do exactly what I am told, verbatim, in the exact order as given, even if it's not making sense and is counter productive and entails micro-management. What that is all about is not production, it is about self-importance by the tyrant. If we are to be succesful warriors, we will recognize this and not become trapped in the egoic struggle that may ensue. We work around our common sense, taking this into account, the best that we can. Petty tyrants take themselves seriously, while warriors do not, this article goes on to say. This piece refers to having understood one's self importance through emotional outbursts, which gives way to having understood nothing at all, really, it says. And how can we know this? Because, it continues, the next day we are back on our high horse of self-importance, as if we understood nothing at all. And then we get laid off... or worse, fired. Take it a step further, someone actually dies.

What this all said to me is what I have known for some time. That we learn... or should... from our experience. Trust me, life's experiences can be quite humbling. I guess that is about the time that we have, conceivably, let go of self-importance... when we have been humbled. It's one thing to be right, but there seems to be nothing more distasteful than self-righteousness. Even if the petty tyrant is all wrapped up in their self-righteousness, our own self-righteousness will bring us down... afterall, they are the tyrant, and that is their role. Especially if they are the supervisor. This means that they do have the power and they will use it, and quite gleefully. Never put a petty tyrant in a supervisory position... then again, it suites them well, feeds those nasty alligators. Somebody's gonna feed them, right? Afterall, they are our teachers. Moving right along.

I've always thought it quite symbolic that cleaning one's home is like cleaning one's soul... or mind. Or that if we can't seem to muster the energy to clean one's home, if we just clean our soul or mind, the house will follow. But, which comes first, the chicken or the egg? Before I could handle the boxes, I had to have the time and energy to sort them. This meant sitting and going through each piece of paper, experiencing each emotion that was possibly attached to each scrap of paper. And as I did this, I begin to lay these things out, put them in order, categorizing them by subject and date. And burned huge piles of shredded paper. It didn't seem right to bag them up and have bits and pieces of my life thrown into a gigantic pile of rotting garbage, mixed in with everyone elses left over stinking lives. No, I would not have that. Better to be done with it, return it to the ethers, myself, so that nothing remained loose and out there, unresolved. What no longer had purpose or order was now gone.

It was amazing how I could feel different things happening on the inside of me, as I sorted through the stacks. It was amazing how wonderful it felt, how much lighter that I felt, as the trash bag grew to enormous size and the empty boxes were tossed aside. Those empty boxes would reach the fire pit, too. What was more amazing was the level of clarity and peacefulness that began to take place as I read through the pages, placing them in chronological order. Many things begin to unfold, as insight was laid bare. It was enlightening, to say the very least, following several years of an unusual journey. It had been like putting a jigsaw puzzle together, without having known, beforehand, what the picture would become. It was also helpful to see the parts of myself that had not changed, things that I continue to struggle with, places where I had not grown. And even more, in the last few weeks, together with the experience of what I found in those boxes, realizing why some of those places have not grown.

I could not have thrown those boxes out, sight unseen, though it may have seemed a simple and easy thing to do... a solution that would have been no solution, at all. To have been able to hand pick what was to be thrown out... and, put in order, what was to remain, was, essentually, picking and choosing what I want to remain in my life... more simply put, of what I need to remain in my life, as tools and traveling companions for my continued journey. Throwing out the whole kit and kaboodle would have been akin to throwing out the baby with the bath water. I would have simply closed the door on a past that remained unresolved... and would have found no resolve, at all. Reflection is a good thing. But, as any good Warrior well knows, what good is an experience... and the reflection that comes along with it... if we have not learned a thing and continue to live in our self-righteousness. The self-righteousness that serves none other purpose than to fuel the fires that would destroy one's very soul. We want a soft amber fire, within... not a red hot one, fueled by hatred and anger.

What is small to one, is great to another. What is black and white to one, is multi-colored to another. What is unimportant to one, is of utmost importance to another. What is not learned by one, is possibly learned very well by another. It is all things, great and small, that count towards our daily lives. Let us not disregard any one of them, as they may be a link towards healing a broken life.