I don't mean this in a suicidal kind of way. I mean it more in the sense of
computers, fax machines, and shiny sequined tank tops flying out my window while I set fire to a pile of
bank statements. You see,
money really can keep you warm at night, in a literal kind of way.
I've recently realized that I am very slowly buying a massive collection of context. But it's a plastic, inflexible kind of context, and I move past it faster than I can remember where I put it. I know that objects can't make me happy, yet I continue to buy them, watching them pile up around me. Why? Because they make me comfortable. And I wonder if I could be happy without being comfortable; if I could survive without anything to go back to. It's always been one of my biggest fears - being left exposed - and at the same time it's also one of my biggest fascinations. I keep coming back to this image in my mind of a leaf floating in the breeze, at the mercy of the elements but finally able to move.
Everything around me, everything I've bought or acquired, is like some sort of extension of myself. Once they latch on, letting go is like sawing off an arm. There will come a point where I'm ready to strip it all away, I hope, and come to terms with what's left. I'm not ready to do this yet, and I don't know if I ever will be, but it's nice to know that it's a possibility. Playing the game becomes a lot more fun when you realize that not playing is a viable option.
A few years ago, my father tried to teach a group of business people about the principle of Non-Attachment. He came armed with flip charts and microphones and an army of smelly markers. As he took a step away from his giant flip chart to respond to a question about the details of this very principle, the microphone attached to his shirt collar came loose and clattered to the ground. Silence followed, and then applause. A moment later, as he looked around him and noticed that he was completely on his own, he understood.
My father is a good man, with a unique way of stumbling headlong into truth. I guess it runs in the family. And one day, when I actually do burn all of the bank statemnts and the phone bills, I hope he'll be there to watch. I think we'd both get a big kick out of it.