I am going to die. I am terminal and there is no time frame. It can come tonight or next year or next week. But I am going to die sooner than I thought. I am not ill. This past year has shown me that age makes no difference when we die. Relatives life span makes no difference when we will die. Even lifestyle habits will make no difference when I will kick the bucket.
I have been told, lovingly suggested, to declutter my life. Toss the flotsam and jetsam that surround me, pare down my stuff. I have lots of stuff. I have lots of clothes. I am planning on wearing a sari more often so I have several of those too. I need to delete possessions.
I hope I can learn to take a picture, post it, then toss in the trash the items of my life….. the milestones of this long journey that is my life.
My biggest obstacle in decluttering my life is where to put the items still useable. There is no place except the trash here in the wilderness. This past Christmas could be my last and I need to divest myself of decorations. They are no regular ornaments but all unique…..beautiful…..
So many memories are there. However it is not as much as their memories as their intrinsic beauty that I keep them. I can not deep six beautiful things.
My mind races with ideas on how to keep them, use them see them everyday without looking like or becoming a hoarder.
I used to play a game on what I would pack in my backpack if I had to leave earth like in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. What would I want with me always…
Now that I am dying I can not take anything with me. I fear living in an empty space devoid of color and beauty until then. I have see very old people grow indifferent to their surroundings and only worry about their next poop. I refuse to live that way. And I will not.
So I need to divest myself of what has defined who I am all these years. It is the memories and the experiences with people that matter I am told. But……But I learned through the painful experiences in my life that people betray, lie, hurt, steal and otherwise try to make a life miserable because they can. Whereas stuff, those items of beauty that I am surrounded with have never betrayed me, harmed me. I am not a hoarder. I know when I have enough of a thing I collected.
So I am dying and I need to make those that will roll up my carpet lives easier since they will be the ones driving to the land fill.