I’m in the process of divesting myself of “stuff” I no longer need but still want. I sure will feel better once that job is done. As a sentimental man a lot of the things I’m tossing mean something to me, like the baseball signed by my Little League team when I was about thirteen and was in the hospital for an appendectomy. Some would call what I’m doing “decluttering.” Not I. There is very little actual clutter in my boxes, rather a treasure trove of precious memories.
When I touch these things I feel their energy—mostly positive, some negative, and others bittersweet. I sometimes laugh, sometimes cry, and most often I take comfort because of my attachment to the experiences they represent. I know I am not alone in this, for almost everyone who recalls their past has emotions that surface. For the few who don’t—well, I feel sorry for them.
Going through my memorabilia re-members my life’s story. As a senior adult with decades of life with its comings and goings, my memories are filtered through a different lens than when I was young. I now know much of the back story of notes and documents about my birth and early years, pictures, birthday cards, and those of my family. I am rediscovering our lives in a whole new way.
I was the youngest of four born to my parents. As of June of this year my parents and all of my siblings have died. In fact, the day this column is published I will be in Dallas to sing and speak at my sister Nancy’s memorial service. When I look at the old photographs, today I know most of the stories of their lives.
I can see many of Mama and Daddy’s own emotional scars as well as their accomplishments. As a result I understand them in such a different light, especially regarding the meaning behind some of my negative experiences of growing up under their parentage. Knowing from whence they came, I have forgiven them for things they really didn’t need forgiveness for. As a father I can look at my own parenting mistakes and better understand theirs.
Buddhism tells us that most, if not all, of our suffering comes from our attachments to people, things, expectations, etc. When we cling to those things they cling to us. As I go through my old possessions, I’m again learning the art of letting go. I can let myself be immersed in my connection to my possessions, bless them, and release them. I cannot forget the unpleasant parts of my life, though I sometimes wish I could, but I can commit my experiences fully to my heart and soul where they can always pitch their tent.
In his exceptional epic song “Moses,”the Christian singer/songwriter Ken Medema wrote of the rod of Moses and his attachment to it. Search for it online. It is well worth the listen.
“What do you hold in your hands today?
To what or whom are you bound?
Are you willing to give it all to God right now?
Give it up. Let it go. Throw it down.”*
The late, great Kris Kristofferson wrote in his song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” that “Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.”
As I go through my life in boxes, I practice letting go. Sometimes letting go brings us freedom and peace. That is where I hope this journey will lead.
…and that’s the View from The Balcony.
Randy Weeks is a Licensed Professional Counselor, a Certified Shamanic Life Coach, an ordained minister, singer-songwriter, actor, and writer. He mourns the death of Kris Kristofferson, one of the most influential singer/songwriters in his own songwriting. Rest in peace, Kris. Rest in peace. Randy may be reached at: randallsweeks@gmail.com.
*“Moses”by Ken Medema. Copywrite Word Music, LLC
