I was moving up, I was moving forwards, I was moving on.
Though at one point of moving out of my flat I felt I had nowhere to move in my body.
The hired help I’d booked appeared a little worn and battered. Both the man and the van had seen better times. This didn’t look good. I really had worn down to that crusty edge. Money’s too tight to mention. There were threats to walk off the job but these seemed to subside after seeing the contents of my flat. This sudden change of heart made me feel uneasy.
As I carried all my worldly goods out to the base of his van I stopped tracks on a return journey and thought- at any given time this stranger I’ve booked from nowhere could drive off with all my worldly possessions. Where would that leave me? They were part of my life.
Yeah that really shook me. That picture of being at the kerbside…..totally fleeced. Standing alone. It was then that I had the unique hit of feeling ripped to a nakedness and shame on the street and a shame for also feeling liberation and freedom in the very same moment. Is there any end to this giving up I thought.
It is the thing of stuff. By way of association. The accumulation of stuff that helps us identify with our lives, that supports our being and show us where we came from. A scaffolding however that at some point in time is taken away.
Fortunately it never came to that loss, I traversed the speed bumps with the beaten up boxer and the van with a history to match. We crunched our way through the gear changes and his casual indifference to all that prevailed outside his van helped me realise so much is insignificant.
It is in such moments I think we become aware of what really matters. People become a greater focus in our lives and the space that opens up before us helps us to look outside ourselves.
The weightlessness that comes without stuff isn’t as bad as we might fear. What truly matters are the treasures of the heart that lie inside. Some things can never be taken away.
Recent Comments