The more I threw away old clippings, folders containing yellowed-out articles on subjects that I haven't even thought about for years, business and Rolodex cards (yes, once upon a time we used to use something called a Rolodex!) and phone books with names that are buried deep in my distant past, the more I threw them away without mercy and by fighting that ever-present impulse to keep and preserve things, the better I felt.
The urge to hoard is as strong as the urge to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes I suppose. I had never been a drinker but I used to smoke over a pack a day when I quit over twenty-some years ago. So I remember that crazy urge to light up one and take a deep breath and feel the bubbles of withdrawal perk up to the surface with delight, burst with a pop that always translated to a universal "...aaaahhh!"
Keeping things forever has that kind of resonance for me. It's that kind of almost-biological need and insecurity, rolled up into one.
But do we need air in our lives or not? If yes, then we need to quit hoarding like we need to quit smoking.
Do we need light - clear, brilliant, resonating musical light? Then we need to throw away all the dust-collectors in the second floor, basement and attic just like we need to throw away all those bottles that gave us nothing but temporary hope, at best.
As writers, we need clear our space before we can clear our heads. We need to go for the simple, few, and clean. Above all, we need to have the faith and courage in our inner resources that it won't be the end of the world if we threw away old stuff that we haven't touched for decades. We need to have full faith in our creativity and inner resources. Otherwise the old will keep gathering huge balls of dust and dirt in the heart of our homes and soul. It'll cripple us.
I wish you clear days of courage and faith without the burden of a past that we have no need for anymore.
(Image courtesy of WIkipedia)
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