I think I will write today. I don't know what about, but I feel the need for words. There is something cathartic in putting pen to paper and just letting it flow, the sweet release in digital rain of what has been held in, held on to for far too long. It is time to let go. It is time to clean house of thoughts and ideas collected and hoarded in useless abundance and no longer needed. It is time to cleanse, flush the mind, flush the soul of unnecessary debris and toxic thought that clouds and hinders judgement and the ability to live and be truly authentic. Mental clutter fueled by fear and expectations of self and others. Pieces of the past, hurts bygone, insecurities, obligations, should and 'ought to be's' snagged one upon the other like the hands of hell, tug and pull at the edges of consciousness, weighing me down...
So much there, but where to begin...
And yet, it is so hard to let go. There is odd comfort in their presence, something familiar, safe and comfortable. They are anchors to those things that shape identity, make us who we are. Connections, roads taken (or not), mementos and markers, hopes and dreams deferred, souvenirs collected over a lifetime to become dust imbued emotional clutter, a hoarder's hell physically manifested in the things I cannot bear to throw away. Symbols of great significance in the lives of those around me. My grandmother's dishes, important to her, but not to me; reminants of my mother's life, a set of glasses I never use, clothing I never wear and generations of accumulated physical connections to a past that no longer exists and I never knew. Haunted by their ghosts, if I let go, do I betray them? Bound to the baggage of other's, now made my own. The weight is crushing. I need to be free.
So much there, but where to begin...
In the free flow of words I start to sort through years worth of accumulation, layer by layer. In the end, memories and lessons learned are all I need... The rest is just 'stuff' left to burden and decay. So time has come to let go of the past and all its burdens and let flow a river of consciouseness and a life dammed far too long... Yes, I think I will write today...
So much there, where to begin...
So much there, but where to begin...
And yet, it is so hard to let go. There is odd comfort in their presence, something familiar, safe and comfortable. They are anchors to those things that shape identity, make us who we are. Connections, roads taken (or not), mementos and markers, hopes and dreams deferred, souvenirs collected over a lifetime to become dust imbued emotional clutter, a hoarder's hell physically manifested in the things I cannot bear to throw away. Symbols of great significance in the lives of those around me. My grandmother's dishes, important to her, but not to me; reminants of my mother's life, a set of glasses I never use, clothing I never wear and generations of accumulated physical connections to a past that no longer exists and I never knew. Haunted by their ghosts, if I let go, do I betray them? Bound to the baggage of other's, now made my own. The weight is crushing. I need to be free.
So much there, but where to begin...
In the free flow of words I start to sort through years worth of accumulation, layer by layer. In the end, memories and lessons learned are all I need... The rest is just 'stuff' left to burden and decay. So time has come to let go of the past and all its burdens and let flow a river of consciouseness and a life dammed far too long... Yes, I think I will write today...
So much there, where to begin...
