Not all that long ago, but well within my somewhat limited memory these days, who I AM had gotten lost in a myriad of false gods: my job, my car, my clothes, my bank account, and I worshipped at the church of “What Others Think of Me.” It was exhausting. Happiness was always just out of reach and, seemingly, in someone else’s control.
It’s been two years since I reduced my overhead and rid myself of all but those possessions
that would fit in one 400-square-foot room, and I’ve never been happier. Decades of carting around unwanted, unneeded and, in many cases, totally forgotten books, furniture, dishware, and bell bottoms from Cher’s 1967 summer line had held me hostage and blinded me from seeing the simple pleasures that were free for the taking.
From another perspective, the thought of others picking through my stuff when I’m dead – judging me on the elasticity of my underwear or lack thereof, or how hairy my legs must have been to have six tubes of Nair under my bathroom sink, not to mention that drawer full of unmatched socks because hey, you never know when you’ll lose a foot and only need one – completely freaked me out. I know I’ll be gone, but who’s to say such humiliation doesn’t follow you into the afterlife? Sure, a lingering disease gives you some warning, but I’m more prone to crashing and burning.
This Thanksgiving I will give thanks for the love of family and good friends; for the ever-changing beauty of the sky – a wisp of cotton candy clouds this morning over bright pinks and blues as the sun rose to bless me with another day, and nights of bright celestial celebration that remind me I AM part of something much, much greater. I will give thanks for a body that is healthy and strong; for the animals that teach me about unconditional love, for a cozy home and enough to eat and, high on my list, I will give thanks for everyone who visits here. Sure I would continue to write even if no one read my humble offerings, but I am so very grateful that you do.
“Life is a banquet and most poor fools are starving to death.” The line is spoken by Rosalind Russell in the original “Auntie Mame,” my all-time favorite movie.
Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.