Too much

Photograph by George Angus

When we moved to Barrowfield last year, we did so with too much stuff (See Matilda’s post Moving heavily). There were mitigating circumstances as we stated before: it was years of living, by four different people and in different locations coming together – Matilda, me, Oupa Frans and my dad. There were two workshops, one pottery studio and four houses with all the tools and possessions associated with each. Add to that my father’s reluctance to move and our efforts to take into account that his belongings acted as a security blanket and all could not simply be taken away from him and you end up with all that arrived in Wakkerstroom and here on the farm at Barrowfield. And that despite everything that has indeed been sorted, discarded or sold.

Too much.

That is not the way we want to live. There is a dissonance between our possessions and our spirituality. We want to travel much, much lighter.

Gradually things have settled in these past few months. We know we are moving into the next phase. Once again we have to go through an exercise of culling, stripping and reducing. We strive to make it a constant endeavour.

It is important to start with our possessions. It is always the vital first step in a process that goes much deeper and wider.

We owe it to our souls.

Instructions

Give up the world; give up self; finally, give up God.

Find god in rhododendrons and rocks,

passers-by, your cat.

Pare your beliefs, your absolutes.

Make it simple; make it clean.

No carry-on luggage allowed.

Examine all you have

with a loving and critical eye, then

throw away some more.

Repeat. Repeat.

Keep this and only this:

what your heart beats loudly for

what feels heavy and full in your gut.

There will only be one or two

things you will keep,

and they will fit lightly

in your pocket.

                                               Sheri Hostetler

Enough 

Enough. These few words are enough. 

If not these words, this breath

If not this breath, this sitting here.

This opening to the life

we have refused

again and again

until now.

Until now

                                       David Whyte

George