A New Year And a New Gesture

I burned past agendas and day planners in the fire pit in my backyard.

On a social platform—don’t ask me which one because I don’t remember—I came across a woman who said something like, “There are things in your home you should get rid of, even if you don’t think your place is cluttered.” She went on: “The pile of agendas from years ago that you’ve stored somewhere—get rid of them.”

When we say something resonates—it really resonates. And today, I know exactly what that means.

Oh shit. Was she watching me? Was it a common problem for people to hang on to these day planners?

The past can be scary

She went on to list a few more items that should be out of the home, but the truth is I couldn’t get past the image of me opening my closet—slowly, eerily—as if what was in there was the scariest thing ever.

And well, it kind of was.

Hidden away in that closet my day planners from years ago sat silent on the top shelf. This lady told me (yes, me) that I wasn’t living in that space or that time anymore—that I didn’t need that energy in my life (or even in my closet). She told me the healing was done. The dates and events had passed. I was nervous to open the books and look through them. I suppose I didn’t have to but I was curious.

I flipped through each day planner and found exactly what she was talking about: dates with people I do not love (probably didn’t love them much then either), appointments with therapists and doctors, Al-anon meetings, meetings with lawyers, time in court, fall-aparts and fixes of an old house, saying goodbye to people and hello to others. Very few of these people are in my life anymore. No lawyers. No old house. No bad dates.

As I perused them, it felt a lot like someone else’s life—like I was looking in. Yet I knew the details, and I knew I wasn’t going there anymore. It had passed.

That’s not to say I don’t appreciate my journey. I do. I appreciate the learnings. I appreciate the fortitude and indomitable spirit I’ve nurtured in myself.

I don’t need these things.

Outside, I got my fire pit ready and lit it, tossing in the pages. I went inside when the fire was just smoldering, but if I tell you that this fire burned again with flames around 3:00 a.m.—and continued to smolder until around 9:00—I have to ask myself: what kind of spiritual gasoline was in those pages?

I’m definitely done

There is a very satisfying feeling in seeing that this big box of agendas was now a shovel full of ashes. Like the prayer says, ashes to ashes and dust to dust—life is temporary. Experiences are temporary. Everything returns to the earth.

Maybe I’ll do this annually in December, letting each year go. I’m not sure. But I do know that this evening of fire and release felt really good.

As always, thank you for reading, Lovelies