Everyone is allowed one carry-on of baggage.
One bag of sorrows, disappointments, betrayals, and regrets.
No more than one.
Not a big bag.
Just bring what you can carry.
Stow it away above you
when you aren’t strong enough.
It’s reasonable and natural to
not be able to leave it all behind.
To keep everything you have
would be unbearable.
To expect anyone else to carry it for you-
would be cruel.
The past is gone.
It will never return.
The future isn’t here yet.
Let them go and stay here in the present.
Hold on to as little as you can.
When you arrive at your destination
there is nothing you will need.
What you carry with you
will blow away as leaves in the wind.
That is freedom.
Posts Tagged With: simple life
Everyone is allowed one carry-on of baggage.
Since becoming a Romantic Minimalist I have nothing to say. I should clarify that statement. The topics of conversation have become more clear to me since turning to minimalism. There is little meaningful conversation out there these days. Talk falls into some common categories.
Busy busy busy
“Gosh I’ve been busy.”
“Oh yes, life is so hectic isn’t it?”
“There is never enough time to do it all.”
“I said I would bake cookies for the whole class. Ugh.”
“The teenagers won’t do their own laundry.”
“I’ll be up all night getting that project done.”
Clutter and Cleanliness
“I don’t know where to store more stuff.”
“Picking up after the family never ends.”
“There isn’t enough space in our house.
Maybe we should buy a bigger one.”
“The stress of the bills is overwhelming.”
“We can’t afford anything right now.”
“We just refinanced the Harley to pay for the boat.”
“Did you see that____________________? I just have to have it!
Whatever happened to having conversations about history, art, and our dreams?
I’m sending my best friends New Years cards.
In them I am graciously requesting
Meaningful conversations this next year
And for them to omit these categories above.
They know me well enough to understand my point.
Time is precious. Too precious not to
Have meaningful conversations.
I’m fine with silence but I miss my friends.
As I continued to look at my life and remained determined to simplify and minimize I came face to face with aging. In my youth like most kids I didn’t really give my age much thought other than to look ahead at what I could do when I was older. In my twenties I was of course caught up in the beauty game and as I read and reread romance novels and women’s magazines I realized that no matter what I did I wouldn’t measure up. In my thirties I concentrated more on health and fitness as well as happiness and let some of the shallow concepts of the last decade go. As I entered my forties I was again experiencing motherhood in a whole new light and didn’t take the time to take care of myself. I developed an autoimmune disease which changed my perspective on keeping up with the expectations of society. It also changed my priorities. This is when Romantic Minimalism became a part of my life for good. It not only eliminated some of the needless stress in my life but it brought my spirit back to center. That part of me that I neglected since childhood surfaced at a time that I truly needed it the most. I realized that I could either continue to deny that I was getting older and be the woman who just looked like she was trying too hard to be twenty again or I could embrace aging. I could continue to fill my cupboards with paint for my face, hair, and body or I could watch lovingly as my body fades and my spirit becomes brighter. I had watched with envy and aversion the conformist twenty year old women with bleached hair and fake nails thinking that I should conform as well. Many truly beautiful women that had made that same decision to allow nature to take its course were all around me and I saw them for the first time as I made the conscious decision to love myself for who I am and not try to be someone else.
In the midst of our travels on the journey of life blah blah blah…
We want to find the real ones.
What we go back and truly admire is art and “the real ones”.
The real ones are everything from spare parts to authentic people.
I admire the storytellers.
There are few good storytellers left.
I’m not talking about “writers”, bloggers, published authors or English Majors that need an occupation.
I’m talking about the few storytellers that are left in this world.
As a Romantic Minimalist it is these particular “real ones” I respect and admire the most.
A couple of Doctors I work with are such. They can tell stories of history and politics with flavor.
There are a few good bloggers out there that are storytellers.
Today I found “So Far From Heaven” by Old Jules
He’s a real one.
Many bloggers like me, just talk about a subject or post their photos.
Don’t get me wrong. I like bloggers and I like writing blogs.
It’s not the same…
Once again my Romantic Minimalist mind has come to a crossroads.
I used to “follow” any blog of interest.
As of today, I plan only to follow the good storytellers.
Life is short
I always smile and immerse myself when a storyteller lets loose.
There is nothing in life more precious or necessary.
Out with the clutter of good blogs that aren’t storytellers.
Take no offense.
It’s just Romantic Minimalism at it’s best.
That’s who I am.
A real one.