Releasing Things

Sometimes I wish that we could de-replicate things.  Like on Star Trek when one is finished with something or has no use of something you can simply take it to a cubby in your wall, stick it in, push a button and voila! It is turned into energy that will later be used to replicate something you need, say food or clothing or a nice ball of yarn.  There are times that I will start on a project and quit part way through.  Perhaps it isn't a conscious quitting.  Perhaps I got sidetracked by a crisis, a deadline for something else, or because I noticed and error and knew I had to stop right then or it would become a bigger error so I set it aside with all intention of going back and fixing it Later.  Then you find it weeks or months or even years later.  By now you have forgotten where you were in the process or what the mistake was an how you should go about fixing it.  Something inside you says, "You can't get rid of it because you have invested your time and energy into this project already."  You put it away again or you try to figure out where you were and what you need to do.

There are instances where I have fallen out of love with a project or an object or a somethingelseject.  Yet it is difficult to give up.  Case in point:  I have these two black lacquered jewelry boxes from Japan.  I got them when I lived there as a child.  They have pink striped silk interiors.  One has little metal tabs in the shape of sakura (cherry blossoms) and the other still functionally plays a traditional Japanese melody.  It's a pretty tinkling sound.  I treasure them, but I don't use them.  And, sadly, they too often go undusted.  I don't look at them often and there isn't any truly fond memory other than the short time I lived in Japan.  So why do I hang on to them.  They are going in the box of things I can't quite get rid of, but don't want to give up yet.  Hopefully, in a few years when we either move back or permanently settle in Ohio I will be able to more easily let those things go as they are no longer tied to me.

There is something very freeing about being able to say, "You no longer please me.  Be free and find someone who will."  I'm having to get over the idea that I have wasted money in purchasing something I haven't used or no long want.  My children are really much better at that than I am.  There are times, though, that I go to a thrift store and see all kinds of clap trap.  Odd coffee mugs from conferences, ugly Christmas sweaters from the 80's, a mish mash of half used balls of acrylic yarn.  When I try to imagine those things in my home I get a little queasy.  Maybe it is because I have some of those things anyway (save the Christmas sweaters) or maybe it is because I can see how they were a burden to someone else.  "I went to that conference.  I paid for that mug.  But ..."  Yeah.  It's just a mug.  And that is how I am trying to see the things in my house as Just Things.  Very little of it do I actually have any sentimentality.  So away it goes!