It looks like we’re really going to move. The new place is just down the street here in Worcester, but the idea of sorting and packing everything I own fills me with a low key dread that I don’t like at all.
As a good Zen student, I like the idea of simplicity and lack of clutter. In practice, however, I also like all the sweet little things people have given me or I have collected from my travels over the years: the three tiny clay animals a friend gave me for my fiftieth birthday, the pretend bow and arrow I made in a workshop two years ago, the origami sculpture my daughter made when she was fifteen. And then there are the clothes: the beautiful t-shirt I painted in 1990 but have never worn, the innumerable pairs of underwear that I stuff in my dresser that occasionally come in handy when I don’t have time to do my laundry for several weeks.
What to hold onto? What to let go? As I contemplate these questions I realize that the real issue is the interplay between fear and faith. From the place of fear, I want to hold onto as much as I can – to the memories, to the convenience, to the many options. I see myself in the things around me and begin to ‘take refuge’ in them – to look to them for solace and comfort. To a certain degree, it works.
But from the place of faith, I see that what really sustains me and makes my life possible are not the practical and lovely things of my life, but rather some aliveness and generosity that has no fixed form. So far, every day of my 57 years, I have been given enough to eat. I have found a place to sleep. I have had something to cover my nakedness. And beyond this, most often, I have found myself surrounded with a beauty and luxury beyond what I ever dreamed for myself.
The realization of this kind of faith, however, does not yet function freely in my life. Sometimes I see and feel it so clearly, and other times there is a gap, a yawning chasm between this realization and my experience of my life. I expect, to some degree, this will be so all my life. But I also know that my intentions, my thoughts, and my actions have the power to move me toward what is most true and alive or to move me deeper into my fear and clinging.
So my intention today is to practice faith and generosity as I go through my closet letting go of what I no longer need in preparation for the move.
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About Me
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- David Rynick
- I’m a life and leadership coach, Zen teacher and writer. I work with individuals and groups across the country. Living in lovely Worcester, MA, my main partner and collaborator is my wife, Melissa Blacker. We lead the Worcester Zen Community and are founding teachers of Boundless Way Zen Community.
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3 comments:
Hi David,
This is exactly how I feel about my books, which are starting to overflow my living space. But what to let go of? I fear that the one I let go of will be the one I need next. Hazards of being a perpetual student, I guess. Congratulations on your place, may it be everything you hope for.
Gassho,
Glenda
Also, maybe letting go of the comfortable familiar material clutter is a metaphor for letting go of the "ultimate clutter" in our minds- our habitual ways of thinking and reacting, and including fear itself.
ie, maybe we aren't really so afraid of getting rid of our material stuff, but are more afraid of what it might be like to live in a free and fearless way? I mean, it feels SOOOO good when i'm in that free state, and my old voices insist somehow that can't be ok (to feel sooo good!)! (-: din'illahi
Need a coach? This is something I'm good at.
Blessings!
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