The phone rang a few minutes ago, my husband calling all eager and sunshiny like the day outside my windows. He’d just picked up a collection to archive and the woman was quoting from a book about clutter.

 

It’s a gift to others, to give them something new to enjoy, and a gift to yourself to clear the space, he relayed. What a great way of looking at the elimination of clutter!

When we moved to this house a year and a half ago, we emptied our basement – root chakra! – getting rid of what no longer served us. Several weeks in a row, the garbage truck lumbered up to our curb, almost heaving its own audible sigh at the collection of trash beneath the mailbox. So much to throw away. So much junk.

Or maybe it wasn’t junk. Maybe it was time to give it new life in another direction.

And every time we clean out our closets, fluff the pillows, clear off the bench in the boys’ bedroom, it’s not something to become exasperated with or angry about – it’s time for rejuvenation. A new home. A new purpose.

Do we ever look at ourselves that way?

Transition or change is a pathway to purpose rather than scary as it unfolds. Sometimes we jump ship to what looks like a better port only to find out that it’s really a wolf disguised as a sheep. No worry, though. There is a lesson even in that.

Every experience of our lives, good and bad alike, make us who we are meant to be. The mistakes and the memories, the great loves and the dates that went down in fire. It’s all a painting and without the nuance, we wouldn’t see the ray of light in the corner of the frame.

This morning, I finally have time to edit my photos from Israel. Looking at the glistening sugar-glazed pastries of Mahane Yehuda, the lizard who crossed our path in Tsfat, the closeup of the Dome of the Rock where we were allowed to peer but never to step, it all came rushing back to me.

I captured moments along the many steps of that week with my beloved. We stood beneath the aqueduct of Caesaria, arm in arm, big smiles on our wind-worn faces, exhilarated at discovering the world and each other and a renewed love by daring to journey.

A lizard crossed our path in Tsfat. (photo by Lynne Golodner)
A lizard crossed our path in Tsfat. (photo by Lynne Golodner)

That’s why we record the moments, save them for a future walk down memory lane. It’s not to relive something past. It’s to rediscover what lives inside.

Connect with Lynne
Date

Register for The Writers Community