A Painting, a Whale, Spillage of Water

Three souvenirs from Italy: some salmon shorts, a pizza magnet, and a little painting from a street vendor in Florence. I have been very troubled in the past couple weeks because the painting is missing. I have no clue where it went. It was wrapped in brown paper. I am fairly certain I took it home from Europe, but then I schlepped things across the country, around the midwest, made trash piles, etc. I kept thinking the painting would pop up in some box, but now I've gone through everything in the apartment, and it's not here. I think it's a goner.

The painting was 20ish euros, which isn't a huge sum, but also isn't money I feel good about throwing away. I don't remember what the image was--just that I really loved it (enough to say "let me hang this in my new home!"). I'm not sure why this is making me so sad. Sometimes I go through my shoe boxes one more time in a frenzy. Eventually I make some kind of reasonable speech to myself about how I have a lot of lovely art in my home, and I really didn't NEED that painting. The pizza magnet is on the fridge. Am I being serious right now? I went to Italy, and I mourn some tiny art that is of basically no value to anyone else.

I'm sure you (whoever you are) can't really commiserate with me. There are far worse problems. More importantly, there are far better, more wonderful things to think about. I'm a person who tries to keep my possessions limited, and I still have a lot of things. Things I love a lot. Things I would be sad to lose. Although, eventually I will lose them all because you can't take it with you. Just as energy is transferred at lower and lower rates from grains to cows to humans, so is sentimentality. I could give that painting away, but it will never mean half as much to that soul as it did to me. So actually I'm just cutting to the chase. Nothing you can own is ever that important. The less stuff that is running your emotions, the better. I know this. I know this.

I am reminded of a small purple polka-dotted whale I lost as a child. I had brought it down to a hotel swimming pool on some trip. I left it by the edge of the water. The next morning I went to retrieve it, and it was gone. I really liked that whale, and I think I cried about losing it. I had earned it with tickets at Chuckie Cheese's. I missed Jelly (his name) for days. My mom told me she heard some people in the hotel were staying there because their house had been in a fire. Maybe the children who ended up with my whale had recently lost their toys. This didn't really comfort me because I still considered grabbing an abandoned whale theft. If someone had stolen the whale from my hands, I doubt the experience would have stuck with me. It is the burden of guilt that stays so permanent in my mind. If I had just taken better care of what I care for, it could be with me now. This painting experience smacks of the same melancholy.

I told Bisque this morning I hate that stupid painting for ever even entering my life. He thoughtfully pulled up a photo of us from Florence. That was comforting. Even if the photos were destroyed, nothing could erase my memory of those tan roofs.

The spring musical my freshman year of college opened right around my birthday. The cast celebrated by all wishing me a happy day during mic checks. One of my new pals secretly had the entire cast sign a card for me. 40 names and messages in that card! I was so touched. That night I knocked the vase holding flowers off my desk. The card was drenched. I was crushed. And then! The friend who had been with me when I ruined my gift called every person in the cast individually and got them to resign a new card. It is still one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been so clumsy.

Some days I really think I could get rid of everything. I really think so. Others days I am not so sure.

Parents' Stuff

"If your house were on fire, what five things would you save?" I asked my dad.

"Well, the cat," he said. "Whatever computer had most of my files on it..." He paused, "I mean it would depend on what I could take. I wouldn't have time--"
"No, time is a non-issue. You just get five things."
"Well, I would just take whatever I could--"
"No, that's not...it doesn't matter. A fireman will get any five things you want."
He clinked his spoon around. My aunt shuffled in the kitchen, closing the bag of pretzels.
"I would save [her boyfriend], the dogs--How many is that?"
"Let's say it counts as one."
"Then...my computer. Non-digital photos..."
My dad re-piped in, "Old photos, yes."
"And?" I asked him. He shrugged.
My aunt narrowed her eyes around the living room. "Okay, maybe a lamp?" Then, definitively, "I guess I would save three things if my house were on fire."

And yet. We sit in a house of things.

Back in the day.

My dad and aunt have been spending the weekend sorting through their parents' things. Every night, Char takes to his bed like its magnetized to his back. So many boxes. Tables fill of things, empty, shift.

Tonight the garage was officially closed. The siblings had conquered the junk/treasures. I have a new can opener and sheets. Tax Ant exhaled big and prodded at Char: "You promise Lucy right now you're never going to put her through this." My dad said, "I promise," but he looked at his hands and smirked.

He knows. He knows the box he heaved today is one I will heave someday.

You ARE Full!

Be fulfilled today!
There is nothing you actually want that isn't within your grasp or that you don't already have!
Be fulfilled today!

It seems like most people figure out that "bad" vices aren't actually fulfilling--yet people can't quite break the mesmerism long enough to cut the habit I know about this. One of my vices was trashy magazines. I KNEW that reading Cosmo made me feel bad, but it was always just so flipping appealing in the airport shop. FINALLY, I cut the habit. But it took years.

But actually THINGS and STUFF--even "good" THINGS and STUFF are never going to be fulfilling. Succeeding in a work endeavor in itself is not fulfilling. However, expressing diligence and intelligence IS, and sometimes a goal is the vehicle for that expression.

Eating desserts can be a vehicle for gratitude, running the vehicle for endurance, fashion the vehicle for beauty. But sometimes there is no cake, no treadmill, not spring line, and then we cannot feel UNfulfilled because the stuff we're really after doesn't hinge on anything we don't already know, have, and do.


Breakfast in Chi with my aunt and uncle. 2009. Photo my Pookie. Chomp Chomp Chomp, Y'all.

When we are tempted to think But This Isn't Enough, stop, cut out the middle man of that promotion, that eclair, the applause and make circles with your hands and soul and say OH, Yes, It Is.

Hello World! It's like a different way of living now! Thank you, World! We always knew that we'd be free somehow.

The Rules

I really like self-set rules. I can see why people don't. Freedom and all that. But, not me. I just like making choices and stickin' to 'em. I was wishy-washy on eating fish for years. Periods of yes, periods of no, then just trying to limit it...but it was just too hard. When it doubt, cut it out. Bye tuna. I miss you most of all.

This summer while teaching Sunday School to a group of juniors in high school, we came across the question, "If we are supposed to enjoy our lives but not be fixated on materiality...how do we live?" It's a good question--for all religions. I mean, Buddhists eat.

So I thought a bunch and studied a lot, and I came up with four rules.

Enjoy earthy pleasures as long as...

1. you're not putting your opportunities at risk. Example: Indulging in an illegal substance for which you could potentially get caught and fined or jailed for.

2. you're not trying to replace a spiritual quality with the materiality. Example: Buying new clothes because they will make you beautiful, instead of buying clothes that are beautiful to compliment the beauty you already possess.

3. you get legitimately angry or frustrated if you are separated from the materiality. Example: Getting extremely fussy when you don't have dessert after a meal.

4. the indulgence is one you can pull away from and out of if someone were to need help. Example: Getting so drunk you couldn't offer advice to a family member calling in a crisis.

I really like these. Follow 'em!


Amazing chocolates my mom got me from Bruges! Chocolate--my biggest vice.

Some men are born to live at ease, doing what they please, richer than the bees are in honey.