Something really gratifying and cathartic comes from moving. Yes, it’s stressful and frenzied and chaotic, but charging through and against the flow, fighting entropy, finding new places for things is the payoff.
I’ve thrown away a lot of things, too, not counting what I accidentally left at Becky’s. Things have a place, or they go in the trash. Which, that’s their place if the situation requires it. I’ve had to make it that simple. Oh, look, here’s the receipt from when I bought those jeans that didn’t fit yet again and I had to return them and now I want to have a reminder of that time in my life when I gained ten pounds and everything fit funny?
New year’s resolutions sometimes seem so cliché, so trite, sometimes even pointless; I should assess and decide and hunker down to pursue goals all the time and not just in January, but I make resolutions at this time because it’s easy to remember. The calendar year turns, and so should my leaf of character. Resolve specificity varies from year to year, but the general idea is to become a better person.
Moving has forced the issue. What will I keep about myself? what will I throw away, alter, transform? What has a place? What’s relevant? Have I improved since last year? This is where I am now, and over there, yonder, is where I need to be. Getting there won’t be all that simple. It hardly ever is. That jeans receipt won’t help so thank goodness I threw that away, but that determination I decided to keep might come in handy.
So, I am here, in Inwood, about 10 miles from where I used to be. All but one box is unpacked, but it looks like everything has a place.
Except, I can’t find my scriptures.