I woke up this morning to some freshly fallen snow.
I grabbed my favourite yellow shovel. I went out to clear the driveway, when suddenly, I realized that something was wrong. Something was different. I was faced with unpleasant reality that I was robbed.
On the snow-covered driveway, I could now see fresh footprints, leading to and from my driver side door. I observed that the snow had been wiped from around my window. That they must have looked inside, checked the door, and went in.
Getting in was easy, probably because I rarely lock the car door.
I do manage to lock it on occasion, out of habit I guess, but that doesn’t matter.
As I write I am a bit confused.
I’m not quite sure who robbed who.
They clearly insulted my taste in music because they wanted nothing to do my old Compact Disc collection, or my old breakfast wrappers. They left the dust and loose goose feathers from my old jacket, just as I like it.
They even left my handful of nickels and dimes.
They left them undisturbed, but they did liberate one dirty looney, and several precious stamp-cards for a free McDonald’s coffee.
Again.
I’m not really sure who robbed who.
I think I can see the humour in this, because so very little was taken. I think, if I lost something of significance, these words would have a bitter taste.
I’m trying to let go.
To become less and less attached to material possessions. To things. To stuff. The objects in my life that serve and offer very little significance. To become less and less concerned with money, instead of quality of time.
I know I need money. I am just choosing to focus on the experience, and the money as a means to get that experience.
It’s not easy, being raised, being constantly surrounded by bright shiny objects. But the reality is, that you can’t take it with you, when you go.
Shrouds don’t have pockets and your only travel companion to the other side, will be your memories and the things you can’t leave behind.
The way I see myself and the world is changing.
Most of my life I believed in, and measured my life, through what I have come to call; Christian Karma. A sort of hybrid, Buddhist-Catholic, Catholic-Buddhist, accounting system, which dolls out punishment and rewards the believers, for the good or evil, that they do.
I believed (and may still believe) that if I follow and obeyed all the commandments and took seriously all of the countless laws and uncountable precepts. If I worked hard. If I always did what was asked of me. Without complaining. Without regret. If I trusted. Prayed. Kept my head up. Kept my callused hands engaged. Became like Boxer, and cried out loud, I will work harder.
If I did all those things, God would come and hug me.
He would come and help me.
He would be proud of me.
He would once and for all love me.
At the same time, the very moment I stumbled. The moment I fell. For any reason.
All grace. All goodness. Everything that I yearned and needed, would suddenly be withdrawn and hidden from me. I would be cut off from all sources of joy, until the day I would once again find the courage to crawl my way back, and resume the path to righteousness.
I was wrong.
I was so wrong.
Perhaps I wasn’t robbed at all in the early hours of this morning. Maybe I should make it a habit to leave my car door open a bit more often. Perhaps I should leave behind a lot more than just a dirty dollar and some cards for free coffees.
Maybe the person who robbed me needed the money. Maybe they hate themselves and hate their life. Maybe they are just restless and bored. Or stupid. Or a bunch of pranksters.
Maybe they did it because they could.
Maybe they will get high. Maybe they were hungry. Maybe they really wanted and needed a nice warm cup of coffee.
I don’t know.
I don’t know much.
But I do know that materialism is a deceptive trap. A story that can be rewritten.
This is a start.
The beginning of letting go.
