Possessions

I have a strange relationship with my things. I want to be unencumbered, to live sparingly and uncluttered. I want to be mobile, to be able to move cross country on a whim or a moment's notice. I want my home to resemble the simplicity of a monastic chamber, with all of the space and bareness making way for focus and meditation on the important things. But I can't because I have "stuff." And I really like my stuff - well some of it anyway. I like the things that make me feel rooted to my sense of self. I like the notebooks with half-finished verse and letters and journal entries. I like the pictures of people and places I haven't seen in a decade but still consider close or home. I like the knick-knacks and curios that remind me that I'm not an average U.S. citizen, that I am someone who sees the world differently and that I surround myself who do likewise. I like the things that are gifts from people I love, gifts that infuse my life with the style, character, texture and essence of the people I choose to call friends and am lucky enough to call family.

(unfinished)