LETTING GO - November 10, 2013 - Inspiration from Source - 

This a.m., working on letting go of much in my home because I'm not kidding about the tiny house thing - if it's staying with me, it has to hang on a wall, or make good building materials, or be worn on my person. I am ready to pare down to the very basic of basic (and a few cool pairs of boots). I will buy a little piece of mountain land. 

So - if you want to bring your tiny house, you can come live on my land too. Hippie style. But before then - what do we do with all the stuff? It really has to go.

Much has already gone. I hope Christmas will find me a lighter person in material goods to match the lighter person in physical stature that has been shed into being over the last few months. 

I'm finding, though, that letting go is easy to say. Choosing to actually let go of the ghosts of Christmas past and the magic they possess...that's a minor miracle for this swami mommy though. Heart - full - must - tell...others.

And. This a.m. I have once again run across that small parcel of love once fashioned in words just for me. I keep stumbling across it. I refer to the box that holds it with Gollum like protectiveness as "my precious". So many words all tied together in a bundle. That now mean nothing to anyone but me.

I've put it in many different places, thinking it will sort itself. Possibly some thoughtless child or spouse will accidentally toss it and save me the trauma of stumbling across it again. I tried to burn it a few years ago...thought for the best of all....but as the first page came near the flames, I think I had a small seizure. I don't actually remember what happened, but the next day the box was back in storage. The bundle was back in the box.

In summer I tried desperately to release it. Tried to deliver it up. Failed with a police presence. "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those...." So back into hiding it all went - and here it is again. That is not where I left it, though. Right there in the middle of the room for someone to trip over.

When you are cleaning out your house and cleansing your spirit, what do you do with the dark thing full of light that bring simultaneous spiritual sadness and intense memories of joy. Especially if it takes up physical space. And you are allergic to dust?

So I actually meditated on it this morning - what do I do with this parcel from the past? Shouldn't I just let it all go? I am told - "Let go - and hold on. Stay in this moment, each moment, now. Release the sadness while holding what must stay with you." 

What the? That's cryptic. Is it even helpful? Sometimes spirit is a bit wily and confusing.

All right - could you throw away these words: "Am missing you in the moment. Spelling you into being with the memories held by the tips of tongue and fingers on a canvas of want. I love you, woman." - could you dispose of such linguistic love? Even if it was covered in dust and spoken by a ghost?

Yeah. Me neither. But it's not going to fit in my tiny house - that's for sure. 
Guess I'll have to build a tiny storage unit too. About the size of one bundle of magic and a dozen pairs of boots. 

After all - love is always worth holding onto - and I'll need those boots for walking.