Friday, June 30, 2006

beauty in the breakdown

I'm unpacking my stuff. Or, as I realized this evening, my stuff is unpacking me. What is it about holding something in your hand that meant the world to you a few years ago, and can still trigger those emotions, and all the while you recognize what it really is (a rock, a piece of cloth, a letter, a dance shoe, a photo)...but can't bear to throw it out?

I imposed upon five of my dearest friends to help me unload my storage box on Wednesday night. Imagine how much less they would have had to hoist if I could have just brought myself to the conclusion that stuff is just stuff and tossed it before I left for Korea? I remember fantasizing about the whole box going up in flames due to a freak fire at All Canadian Self-Storage but, (un)fortunately, that didn't happen. Instead, it followed me. All of it. Across the globe, in my heart, and now to 215 Howard Park Avenue where I just spent the past two and a half hours hacking my way through a jungle of boxes and newspaper wrapping.

I am learning to embrace roots. I am simultaneously learning to discard. Paradoxical chaos.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

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