Tag: living mindfully

Evidence of a Life Lived

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As far as I can tell I have about a million photos, just in my room. And 20 times more on my laptop and two external hard drives. Oh, and on my phone. And on about 3 SD cards. I guess you could say I’m a visual person.

What occurs to me as I sort through the physical photos is how much I enjoy touching them and deciding if I want to keep them or not. Putting them in piles, tossing some into the trash, then maybe retrieving one or two from there. I go from a stack so tall it threatens to topple to one no thicker than a Stephen King writing as Richard Bachman novel.

And I am filled with satisfaction.

I do not get this same high from sorting through my virtual pile of photos. I never feel like I’m complete, or that I’m doing it right. Didn’t I just put this one in the trash? Or did I move it to another folder? Maybe it’s on my desktop. It’s maddening. And yet I feel like it should be the same.

But underneath all of that the underlying cause of the distress is the fear that I will delete the wrong photos.

I am attached. I loathe to admit it.

This process, the counting and cataloging and eventual purging is revealing all my neurotic tendencies. Why are photos so precious? What if they all just disappeared? What am I truly holding onto?

Memories? Evidence of a life lived? Proof of something?

Is that what all stuff is? Is that why we hold onto things from our past? I think maybe that’s one reason. I also think guilt holds objects in place longer than they need to be. And lack, fear of never having enough. Our stuff tells our story, too. It communicates to others who we are by the selection of items we choose to live with. It’s more than just your style.

But I digress, back to the endless stacks of photos.

It hits me as I paw through one box in particular. Most of the photos are from past work events from a company and job that defined me for a while and definitely shaped my business acumen and practices. I loved working for  this company and the people I worked with. We traveled to Hawaii and San Diego and San Antonio. We had fun trainings in Atlanta and parties locally. Yet I can only name maybe half the people in the photos. The photos don’t tell the story as richly as my memories. I can let them go.

I’ve also noticed that I am quick to toss photos of things that I’m sure I felt were amazing and new to me at the time, but I have since seen or experienced whatever it is over and over again. A tiny alligator in a pond at the Kennedy Space Center 15 years ago looks trivial and silly next to the up close and personal friends I’ve made at the Orlando Wetlands. I am comparing my past to my present. Healthy? Normal?

This shows me that the photo was a novelty, not a memory. I also can’t bear to keep photos of animals in the zoo or Sea World. My sensibilities and education about such places won’t allow me to enjoy them.

I am questioning my own photo motives.

Mostly I think I just really like documenting things. I don’t know why. I’m not sure it’s just for me. I like to share.

I will continue to thin the photo herd for eventual scanning. Photo books are in my future, but will I be able to let go of the actual photos once they’re scanned? I guess we’ll see.

I’m just grateful I have not committed to counting everything I have digitally. Although that may be a worthy endeavor.

Makes me sleepy just thinking about it. Let’s deal with the tangible stuff first.

Full of Dirt and Good Intentions

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Since I was already sitting there, on the back patio, I decided to catalog my back yard.

My criteria for “stuff” seems to be anything I could pack up and move with me. So not the trees or plants rooted in the earth, or even the stone patio we set, but the items I usually bring in when a hurricane threatens to blow through, are what made the list.

I have always wanted to landscape my tiny back yard so that I couldn’t really see the fence surrounding it. I’ve been here 16 years (it was supposed to be five) and this has not happened on purpose or through the beauty of managed overgrowth. But I still love my organically messy back yard. We planted native trees when we moved in alongside the existing orange tree and rubber tree, so it’s much more lush, but still not the garden of my imagination.

It is small. My porch, which is huge, probably eats up half my yard. If it weren’t for the mosquitoes, I’d probably do away with the screen that divides the two spaces. But, Florida.

Because of my greenish-brown thumb, I employ a lot of potted plants – 30 to be exact. This way, I can move plants that are floundering to a different spot. More shade, more sun, eastern exposure, southern. There are a few of these in the front yard as well, but I’m getting a head of myself.

I have a small scrolly table with 4 chairs I inherited from my great uncle. It’s aluminum I think and the paint is peeling, but maybe that’s part of its charm. On it is a collection of those pots I mentioned, full of nothing but dirt and good intentions. In addition there is a hand made decorative plate I got from somewhere, filled with water. We have a bird bath in the front yard and the doves love it. The doves also love our back yard so I thought I would treat them to a second option. Since “installing” the back yard bird bath I have hosted not only doves but blue jays, cardinals, titmouses (titmice?), finches, generic brown birdies and squirrels. If I sit very still on the patio I can watch them drink and bathe without being noticed.

Then there are the chairs. Not the ones that match the table, the other 4 randomly strewn throughout the tiny space like some modern art installation. An art critic may note the longing of the two empty chairs seated next to one another, waiting, waiting for two lovers to return. Or the solitary chair facing east as if it’s former occupant sat anticipating the sunrise each morning. I’m not sure what this critic would say about the aqua chair with peeling paint and no seat.

I have a favorite sculpture I bought many years ago that is made from soldered metal parts that once belonged to other things and now through the mind of a Frankenwelder it has become a beautiful rusty bird. I’m a little attached to it.

Like the patio, I could let all of this go – except my bird maybe – but I enjoy it while it’s here. The extra chairs? those could find another home. Between all the chairs outside and all the seating on the patio I could comfortably seat 22.

Aside from the pots of plants and dirt, there are a few stone statues – one of an angel, one a monkey – a plaster St. Francis, cause he loves all the critters of course, an unattached panel of fence hiding out of sight and a stack of slate tiles meant for something greater. Oh and there’s a tiny table between the two chairs for those lovers so they’ll have somewhere to put their tea. Because surely they would have tea. Or maybe wine.

Total number of items in the back yard: 65