Garbage

Literally and figuratively we all have garbage.

We quickly and routines take out the physical garbage in our lives, prompted by the cycle of our Municipal System which cues us each week to do so. When we forget, our other senses kick in to remind us with visual clues at the end of a neighbour's driveway or olfactory clues in the form of terrible smells.  

But what about our emotional garbage? Without external clues, how many of us routinely sift through our junk and remember to eradicate it from our lives?  How many of us bury it deep down hoping its stench and toxicity it will not show up in our lives?  How many of us throw it out back hoping that hiding it in plain site means that it's hidden?  If you checked you emotional backyard right now, would it be clear or would you find it littered with garbage from your last relationship? From your mother? From your father?

Do you invite other people into your yard and ask them to help you pretend they see a well-manicured lawn adorned with blooming flowers or do you allow them to point out the weeds and make suggestions for improvements?  Do you ever ask them to help you?

If you have ever seen a therapist then I would say yes, you have either taken out or at least tried to organize your garbage.  Not enough of us see therapists to clear our emotional garbage. We more often do it to stabilize ourselves during emotional crisis.

Sometimes, on garbage day, I'll spot a neighbour putting their garbage at someone else's curb. It's innocent enough, really.  They just want to take out their trash and the truck has already passed so they cross the street and plunk it down before the truck doubles back. Perhaps you do that. Perhaps you dump your garbage on someone else and walk away with the satisfaction of knowing your trash can is empty.

Unlike the literal garbage, however, I guarantee you that no matter how often or how well you think you dump your emotional trash on someone else, it won't take long before you discover the mound in your life has not just returned but increased.

Paddling out in the canoe, I see this garbage on the side of this hill and I wonder why anyone would leave it there. I wonder why they don't get a friend and clean it up. Then I remind myself...some garbage is better off out in the open. 

The M Word...

ME

I am from love.

I am from

yes you can and

to hell with him

from struggle

from strength

from independence

from red, white and blue.

I am from figure it out
from pick yourself up

from fresh air

from late nights of

hide and seek

of truth or dare

from scraped knees

from broken bones

from the time honoured understanding

that streetlights mean go home.

I am from fistfights

from penny candy

from words written on

borrowed pages
from long walks

from double dutch
from early morning basketball

from tents pitched in backyard grass, 

hidden by trees with bare limbs.

I am from commitment
from uncertainty

from bitterness

from disappointment

from broken dreams

from freedom

from cocoon

from flight.

I am from fortitude

from expectation

from perseverance

from fire

from ashes

from behind the lens.

I am from hope

from forgiveness

from light.

I am from Love

FLOAT!

I don't always know why I am moved to take a picture...not always in tune with the reason it appeals to me. As I flipped through some photos from this summer, I found this one and the word that rose up inside was FLOAT.

Floating... it's one of the easiest things we can do in the water which is why it is one of the first thing they teach young kids once they are comfortable in the pool.

Float, they say.  Just let your body relax, let the water hold you. Like the new swimmer, we fight it. Or I do anyway. I can do it, for a while. Flip onto my back, let the water take my weight while my eyes scan the sky or close against the brilliant sun.

Most of the time I find myself resisting the float. Even if I manage to make it onto my back, after a moment or two I start kicking; start feeling a need to direct my course or reach my destination faster.  I forget that I like the slight prickles the sun makes on my skin; forget that opening my eyes and finding that I have been magically teleported to a new place can be exciting, rewarding, inspiring.

Floating requires us to let go of all sense of control.  To trust that the water will keep us, that the current can guide us.

Floating also requires so much less energy than trying to reach a destination, yet we direct ourselves. In spite of the number of times, we reach our target only to realize it isn't nearly as interesting as we thought from across the water and we have to turn around to swim back to where we started.  Or the number of times we find that what we thought was a direct line turned out to be the long route; or even tire ourselves swimming against a current rather than patiently wait for the tide to change before heading out.

FLOAT...it's my word for the day. It's what I'm going to do more of both in the water and in my life. Laugh if you must as you motor past but I will keep floating. I may not get where I think I want to go... or get where I go very quickly. 

I may get somewhere better.