There is nothing sweet about packing up. It’s hard physical work and an emotional minefield. Do I keep it? Do I trash it when no one is looking? Should I feel bad? Am I bad? Maybe I should box it all up and let my kids deal with it when it’s their turn?
Packing up represents putting our past behind us. It represents our attachment to what was and not what is. Potential never harnessed, use for someday unknown.
Reminds me of my friends who said if they havent used it for two years they get rid of it. Its interesting how possesions can weigh us down to a version of ourfselves that doesnt exist.
