To Not Be Spoiled

Rummaging through my room up here in Canada, im finding forgotten effects of mine that seem to arrive from the depths of the sea, rather than recent experience.

A piece of wood -carved from a branch camping last summer- sits on a shelf and i stare at it asking "why?"

I always fight two oddly converging movements in my will

1. to have tidiness (which allows me to relax and enjoy a space, or work in it)

2. to hold on to stupid crap.

Since i first ventured overseas years back and witnessed poverty and personally lived on an extreme few possessions, i've held a commitment to regulating how much i own.

i'm only an owner of so many shirts and so many pants, etc.

needless to say that i could go on for hours about how i got to that place,

but walking into my little palace on Saskatchewan Street in Saskatchewan, i think i've found myself a betrayer, maybe even a deserter of my high-ideals.

so now its the Sally Ann and the Junkyard for most of this pile; possessions fighting to rob me of my freedom, heart for people, and life in what really matters.

where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

your heart chases what you put your money into, as money chases what you put your heart into.

i've treasured a lot of worthless crap in my day, and i need an annual release from the materials of mayhem that even the most innocent object can become.