let it go...

There are yet another 500 books sitting on the floor of my study and basement in need of new homes. Upon returning from Ottawa last month, Di and I renewed our vow to radically let go of all the "stuff" we have accumulated over 25 years that no longer either brings us life or is useful to our new lives. I have noted before over the past three years that we have successfully purged our home of 2,000 books, 500 vinyl LPs, and over 30 bags of clothing. Now we're getting down to what I suspect will be the final three cuts: 1) relinquishing our sentimental things; 2) eliminating truly unnecessary items; 3) then doing it all once again with the necessary tears so that we might honestly live lightly on the land.

I understand that I am no pioneer in this work. I've heard from mentors and friends how they, too have struggled with letting go of their once treasured possessions. Sometimes health demands this change. Relocation also requires down-sizing. In the final reckoning, however, it is the sobering fact of aging that urges us to surrender extraneous "stuff" so that simplicity might order our days. Not only do I not want to burden my family with disposing of my belongings, but I no longer need things around me to define my identity. Of course, I will want my guitar and bass, my prayer books and beads, some albums and CDs, etc for as long as possible. But most of the other material gifts, memorabilia, and one-time symbols of my journey through life are no longer required for me to know who I am at this moment in time. An article from Psychology Today proved insightful. In "Letting Go" Steve Taylor wrote

A few months ago, I completed a research project at my university about purpose. We began with the hypothesis that there are different types of purpose. We identified seven different types, beginning with no purpose, survival purpose (in other words, just getting by from day to day) and religious purpose. We also identified 'self-accumulative' purpose, (which means accumulating money, status or power), altruistic/idealistic purpose, and 'self-expansive' purpose, which means developing yourself creatively or spiritually. Finally, we identified ‘transpersonal’ purpose, which is the 'spiritual' feeling of serving a purpose that is bigger than you, without much conscious effort or intention. It’s when your purpose seems to flow through you, and carry you along, rather than you pushing it along. We had some interesting findings, especially in relation to age. There was a negative correlation between self-accumulative purpose and age. That is, the older a person was, the less important money, possessions, status, and power were to them. Meanwhile, there was a positive correlation between ‘transpersonal purpose’ and age. The oldest age group (65-plus) were most likely to feel this kind of ‘spiritual’ purpose, while the youngest age group (18 to 30) were the least likely. (Interestingly, we found that women were more likely to be more oriented around transpersonal purpose too.)

Taylor continues to explore the blessings accrued through letting go: a deeper connection to creation, a serenity born of accepting what can be changed and what cannot, as well as a sense of communion with loved ones who are not physically present. The reality of aging could become a spiritual guide Taylor suggests - "reality is the will of God" said the mystic Meister Eckhart, "it can always be better but we must start with what is real" - as the various wisdom traditions of most faiths encourage. But there are no guarantees. Some "feel aggrieved about changes to their physical appearance, the loss of youthful vitality, and the potential loss of everything they have accumulated (their achievements, possessions, status and so on) through death. Rather than experiencing transcendence, they feel more anxious and frustrated. As the famous developmental psychologist Erik Erikson noted, in old age, there are two paths we can take - into ego integrity or into despair; that is, into wisdom and acceptance, or into bitterness and resentment."

(https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/out-the-darkness/201712/letting-go)

What I am discovering in this round of cuts - our third serious effort - involves memories. It was easy to give up clothes that no longer fit, records I no longer played, books that once helped me complete projects but no longer offer wisdom. It was relatively simple to say goodbye to most of my theological/ biblical texts, too. That chapter of my life was over so it felt like Robert De Niro in The Mission when he cut off the armor he wore as penance. Now some books, photos and music open portals of remembrance. I know these experiences of blessing are over - these representations are now symbols and not the real thing - but the feelings they evoke are profound. And while my heart is often very close to the surface of consciousness for me, this feels different. Part of this, I suspect, is saying farewell to my younger self, yes? It is another encounter with letting go.

My hunch is that these feelings are also prompts for prayer if I am paying attention. What am I genuinely thankful for in this memory? What regrets still cling closely? What might God be asking of me to do now? For years, my dad stubbornly refused to get rid of most of his belongings. He did clear out much of my mother's clothing after she passed - and that was helpful. But as I wise woman from my last church used to say, it took a crisis before he dealt with his own possessions. In this case, his need to self his home and move in with my sister (may God continue to bless her!) A few pieces of furniture really mattered to him: a massive cabinet for dishes, a rocking chair and a deacon's bench from his time in the parsonage. My siblings and I stepped up to the plate and took these items because he was so distressed that they would no longer be a part of his family.

That deacon's bench is still in my basement. For three years after his death, I was unable to look at it without tears. I wasn't able to deal with the boxes of unsorted pictures that remained or the tea cups my sisters set aside for me from my mom. Last year we tossed most of the pictures - my parents were dreadful photographers - after saving a few good ones and laughing hysterically over the true bombs! I have set a goal of Christmas 2018 for finalizing my sorting. The tea cups - and deacon's bench - will need new homes. Same goes for most of my records and CDs, art work and trinkets. Perhaps my daughters will want some of these treasures, but most will need new homes. And this is as it should be: they brought me life in their generation and now it is time to say goodbye. The memories they evoke are holy. They have brought me life in every sense. And now new life beckons... as Robert Bly suggests in this poem.

The drum says that the night we die will be a long night.
It says the children have time to play. Tell the grownups
They can pull the curtains around the bed tonight.

The old man wants to know how the war ended.
The young girl wants her breasts to cause the sun to rise.
The thinker wants to keep misunderstanding alive.

It’s all right if the earthly monk is buried near the altar.
It’s all right if the singer fails to turn up for her concert.
It’s good if the fat old couple keeps whirling around.

Let the parents sing over the cradle every night.
Let the pelicans go on living in their stickly nests.
Let the duck go on loving the mud around her feet.

It’s all right if the ant always remembers his way home.
It’s all right if Bach keeps reaching for the same note.
It’s all right if we knock the ladder away from the house.

Even if you are a puritan it would be all right
If you join the lovers in their ruined house tonight.
It’s good if you become a soul and then disappear.