Bluebird Rising

"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." -Anne Lamott

The Weight of Things December 5, 2010

This blog was written on my own accord, created by a realization that slapped me across the face while I was cleaning out my cd’s as one of my tasks for the Day Zero Project. Then today, I saw an explosion of #reverb10 tweets and first heard of the Reverb 10 initiative. I absolutely fell in love with the Reverb 10 idea, and have made a mental Post-it note to complete the entire month, the way it is supposed to “officially” be done, next December. Why I am telling you this is to explain how amazed I was that my random experience with the Day Zero Project coincides with the prompt for Reverb 10 today, and I decided to link the two ideas and participate, even if only just a little bit until next year. (More information on Reverb 10 initiative and the website are at the bottom.)

Today’s Prompt: December 5 – Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? (Author: Alice Bradley)

I have this cd that I have moved from college house to apartment to townhouse to current apartment. Being only a single cd, moving it this many times in nearly as many years was not all that difficult. It is not heavy, and it certainly does not take up hardly any space in the realm of all the things that pile up while you are packing away your life. These things, artifacts of your existence, become haphazardly buried in boxes. Boxes that usually smell like bananas. Boxes that were rounded up the night before, urgently, from whatever local grocery store chain it is that you live closest to at that time.

Frames get wrapped in newspaper to prevent breakage. Maybe even your dishes get wrapped too, if you are enough of an adult by now to have invested in a matching set that you don’t want to chip. But cd’s? They are packed last, one, because your cable was disconnected three days ago and you simply cannot function without some noise distracting you from the present. Two, because at the last minute, they can be made to fit in just about any and every little extra space that is left. You like that; the fact that as organized as you have to be in your everyday life, this aspect of control you can let slide a little.

For months at a time, after you have unpacked it, and stacked it, and carried on about your life post move, you won’t even remember that you own it. You have not listened to it since you lived in that college house four moves ago, so really you should have just thrown it away then, but how were you to have known? But a few times a year, mostly because your self-diagnosed ADHD distracts you from the Netflix you are trying to catch up on, and somewhat because your cd’s are stacked just to the left of the screen failing miserably to keep your attention, your stare falls on this cd. And you are reminded of the person you were when you played this cd a little too loudly, and a little too often, and when you just simply couldn’t help but sing along to every word. Back when the person who gave you this cd was an important character in the cast of your life. Even back to the actual day this cd was given to you, which, as only a closeted sentimental person like you could remember in such precise detail, happened almost as an afterthought on an otherwise boring Tuesday afternoon.

And this kind of makes you laugh, because in all honesty, you really never even liked the music all that much.  The instrumentals, the tempo, the lyrics, none of them are a good fit for you. The style of this band was always compared to a much more well-known band that, even to this day, you have never been able to stand. You always thought the music seemed a little scattered, maybe frantic even, but what did you really ever learn about music, you always assumed. It was more about, as you realize now, what the cd represented. But even stripped of emotion, keeping this cd just never made sense.

Until finally, you have reached today. And in front of you sits the cd, which you have not listened to in years, or even dusted since a feng shui attack during one of the spring cleaning months. But this time is different. You pick it up, you turn it over, and you study the case as if you have never seen it before. You pull it from the case, and you hold the actual disc in your hand. And you brush off the dust, which doesn’t really make much sense, because you know what you are going to do with it next. You lift the lid of the trash, and within seconds it is being marinated in soaked coffee grounds, and last nights pad thai, and a disturbingly dirty Swiffer cloth.

And maybe you feel a twinge of sadness. But mostly, you just feel relief. You feel lighter, because you realize that the weight you gave that cd was way more than the few grams it would measure on a scale. And you feel calm, because you have finally reached a point where you can accept that you are okay with not being who you were then anymore. You are no longer the girl who was given that cd, and you are no longer the girl that this cd was meant to make happy. Others have know that you haven’t been for her for years, and you within yourself have known you weren’t that girl for at least half that time. The difference today is that you can finally accept it, and today you are finally okay with admitting to the pain that accompanies this acceptance. And you are pleasantly surprised that you find yourself excited about moving forward. With a little bit lighter of a load.

What Is Reverb 10?

Reverb 10 is an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next. Use the end of your year as an opportunity to reflect on what’s happened, and to send out reverberations for the year ahead. With Reverb 10 – and the 31 prompts our authors have created for you – you’ll have support on your journey.

http://www.reverb10.com/

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One Response to “The Weight of Things”

  1. […] while I may not jump in head first all the time, and I definitely can’t do it as much with people and job situations as I would sometimes like, I am glad that I still have that ability in some […]


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