I know some of you were worried about me after yesterday’s post [CLICK HERE FOR SHATTERED RECORD] but you mustn’t. This blog is my therapy. Where I vent and voice my joys and my anguish. I am always, ultimately, fine. So worry not.
I found this picture of me, it must be nearly ten years old, taken when I was still teaching and living a much larger, much busier, much different life. I found it in the pages of a book I am giving away, getting rid of, purging. And how cool is this? I have found this old photo, this old image of me, rediscovered a piece of me as I decide what to let go. Life gives us novel scenes every day if we pay attention, yes?
I’m trying to shape a smaller life in which I am more cognizant of my use of the earth’s resources, conserving my own and the planet’s energy, using resources in a reasonable, sensible way. Part of this is to be more daily aware of my place and part in the world, but I’m hardly an altruist, this re-thinking became necessary because I need to be very careful with my money.
So, since I was house-sitting from Friday to Tuesday, up a small mountain outside of town, I decided ahead of time that I would not leave the house, not go to the gym, but, rather, use the time for quiet contemplation, writing, reading, and emotional and spiritual preparation for the chore of packing up my home to move it again. Too, driving up down the mountain uses a lot of gas and like I said, I am trying to watch my carbon footprint and my cash.
Thus, it’s been five days since last I went to the gym. and the longer I don’t go, the easier it is not to. I planned to get up and hit the gym at 6 a.m. but I didn’t make it until 2 p.m. I wasn’t just Tweeting and dawdling and time-wasting. I was packing, or, actually, purging.
If you follow me here or on Twitter, you know I am moving. You know the need to move came as a surprise. You know it upended me at first, terrified me, sent me spiraling down into one of my dysthymic abysses. You know I spent a few weeks in panicked search for a new place my sister and I could afford, scrambling for more work, re-evaluating and re-shaping the life and routine in which I’d become comfortable, here, where we were.
But Charles, (he begins to talk to himself even in his blog posts?), it is good to remind yourself that the name of this blog is Here We Are Going, so, seems only right to, you know, GO.
I am in high-GO-gear now. By the time I left for the gym I had stuffed to exploding the back of my SUV with boxes of books my sister and I are getting rid of. While this is only the first load — and the easiest of the books to let go of — we have gotten this far. We also, each of us, today filled two HUGE contractor-size trash bags with clothes and knickknacks for donation. My SUV is FULL. Tomorrow, we are taking these donations to various sites, checking out our storage unit and beginning the culling there, setting up some utilities for the new address, and GOING, GOING, GOING.
This is a BIG, HUGE deal for us. This moving. This managing. And we both have depression issues and could easily (and started to) fall apart and go into our fear and poor us modes over this. But, we are not. As I said to her today, after I’d stuffed the car full and right before leaving for the gym: “We’re going to do this with ever-increasing joy. Everything we strip away is symbolic of an inner piece of baggage we are jettisoning. Freedom from fear. Growing love. Making room for more light. Letting go. MOVING ON! And, in the process, giving away things that will bring joy to others, passing on our great good fortune and clearing away STUFF so as to have more room for HAPPY.”
HAPPY. Which takes me to the gym. Which makes me happy. So happy. It is amazing to me how much better I feel when I go to the gym — and equally amazing how easily I forget this. Having not gone for five days, it was really tempting to skip just one more. I had even considered giving up the gym entirely, but, I think, honestly, the gym is what helped me to stop drinking a bottle of wine a night, definitely helped me stop smoking, get to a healthier weight, and I am absolutely certain that without it I would need to be on medication for my depressive-tendency/episodes.
And I love it. And, there are adventures. And, well, some of them I am saving for a project I’m working on, so, I can’t really tell the whole entire story, but, the photo above this paragraph, those three pair of shorts and the Magnum condoms, all have to do with the gym. My gym. My happy place. When I got back from the gym this evening I pulled three rolling-bins from under my bed. They’ve been there for 3 years, mostly untouched, except for the one in which I found the shorts and condoms, all of which came — in one way or another — from the gym. Everything else in those bins is in my car, waiting to go to donation sites. But the shorts and the Magnums, I need to save until I write the story.
And, too, there’s a story about this Daniel Radcliffe in Equus hoody. But I’m not, likely, going to tell it. I just want to get rid of the damn thing. Anybody want it? I paid a fortune for it. Which I would never again do. Now. Because I am living a simpler life. With less stuff. And more, well, LIFE.
Later dear ones. More packing to do. And even more fun, exciting, cleansing, and as wonderful for me as the gym, more LETTING GO.
Love and Light, dears. Love and Light.