What
is a life made of? Look around your house. What of all your possessions do you
take with you to a place that's less than half the size of where you're
established and every inch of space you get is being given up by someone who is
established in it and when it always seems that what is vital to one is excess
junk to the other? How do you decide which of the many pieces of your life,
which of the many baubles you've enjoyed must be left behind? How do you take
the things your life will need when you don't know what direction your life is
going to take?
Granted, I
am not moving into some third world country with no stores. I could go with the
clothes on my back and buy things that I need, but that takes money. It takes money
that has already been spent here and money is one of the unknown variables in
this equation. It is one of the things that makes this faithwalk a faithwalk.
This brings me back to my question. The things that are obvious are mostly
things have to do with simply living. That's not the same thing as living
simply. Simply living focuses on the
physical. Both living simply and building a life requires soul: body, mind,
emotions, will, and spirit and their relationship with others. Those things that make life more than simply
living are the baubles from which I have to choose wisely and well. Of course,
there is one collection of baubles that has caused particular concern, at least
if my dream is any indication.
About
a month ago I had a dream in which I met some friends at a conference. They
took home with them. In the course of
the conversation, I realized they had decided I would stay with them. I
protested that I had to go back to the hotel because I had to pay my bill and
collect my books and things. When they dismissed this idea I said, "But
they're my books." The
parallel is obvious and the fact that my mind was already working on it a month
ago gives an indication of how difficult this is for me. I should explain that
my Bible is on my laptop. I have an e-reader that contains my dictionary and I will
have access to a library and the Internet. It's not the books themselves, but
everything they represent, including security and life. They are extensions of
my mind and I must decide which few will not be amputated.
I know the decisions will be made
and I will survive even if I go otherwise bookless into the
"wilderness." I've reached the point where I'm not sure the answers
will be that important. The questions; however, are important. The process is vital. I suspect that
the benefits will be substantial, even if I can't imagine what
they could be right now.
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