I had to realize over the past days that I am much less familiar with the art of letting go than what I had thought, hoped and even sometimes preached. Sitting here between vacuum bags and mountains of stuff I am in disbelief at a) how many things we posses, and b) how hard it seems to put them on the ‘let go’ mount (as opposed to the much higher this-has-to-come-with-us mount). Wherever I go and look, there’s more things that need to be attacked and divided between the two mounts before our garage sale this Saturday. Houses are really made for capitalism! With all their attics, double ceilings, cellars and hidden storage spaces we can just keep on consuming more and more without realizing that we are about to suffocate in our own stuff. Arrgh! Time to move on a boat!
I must admit I even had a moment tonight when I was starting to freak out. Instead of meditating or practicing some calming yoga asanas, a bottle of red popped open as the book pile added an insurmountable question mark to the already overfilled box. The whole packing frenzy seemed like a battle which I was bound to loose. The more frantically I tried to make things disappear into side pockets, big boxes and smaller suitcases, the more things appeared.
Then a little ‘googoo’ of my not even two months old (!) son brought me back into reality. Yes, I was freaking out about how to transport things from one place in this world, to the other. Absurd! I had even lost sight of the fact that all the ‘has-to-come mount’ will eventually have to fit on a boat (impossible at this stage!). To make this battle even more insignificant, consider that further down the track all the things will just dissolve into landfill and dust. Thinking about the worlds’ millions of refugees who have to flee with a bag or less… or the millions of people who live on less than a dollar per day… my infant guru rightly made me feel ridiculous.
Thankful I change his nappy for the night and start relaxing, one muscle, one nerve, one cell at a time. I look at the suitcases and count roughly 100 tops for myself alone. That includes the top 10, another 20 staples, the 20 ‘irreplaceable’ (really???) yoga shirts, an extra 10 fitness shirts, another 20 sexy ones in case I still will want to wear them once the kids are grown up and we can actually go out again, 10 can’t do without sailing tops and another 10 left-overs from my corporate days… What if that box rolled of the boat in the middle of the Indian Ocean? Some part of me almost feels relieved at that thought. So why is so hard then to let go and light-heartedly throw stuff on the let-go mount?
My little Buddha baby probably knows the answer as he smiles and grrrs at me lovingly when I put him to bed. How I would love to be a baby again – nothing to worry about in the world! As per me though, I still have to learn a lot about this wonderful yogic concept – detachment, or else, the art of letting go.