STUFF! The Intangible, the Injurious, the Inevitable

My purse is heavy.  People laugh when they pick it up.  Sometimes, I then entertain them with riffling through it, laughing as I display the absurdity of carrying a partial roll of toilet paper, or a program brochure from a concert nearly a year past.  Very little of it do I actually need.

My son Andrew is currently taking a Field Biology class.  When he heads out to the woods, his messanger bag is filled with a notebook, special pens which write in the rain, binoculars, magnifying glass, reference books, and a snack.  Nothing extra, only carefully selected items to minimize the weight.

Tim O'Brien wrote a fabulous, yet horrible, book called The Things They Carried about soldiers in the Vietnam War.  Chapter 1 begins with a literal description of what they carried:

American soldiers in Vietnam during the war carry many things, most of them from home. First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross carries letters from a girl named Martha, a college student back in New Jersey. He loves her, and though he knows she doesn't love him, he hopes she will. He often daydreams about romantic vacations with her. He wonders if she is a virgin. His love sometimes distracts him from taking care of his soldiers. The men in his platoon carry objects that revealed their personalities.Henry Dobbins is a big man who liked to eat, so he carries extra food. Ted Lavender was scared, so he carried tranquilizers, which he took until he was shot and killed. Dave Jensen is worried about disease, so he carries soap and a toothbrush. They all carry heavy helmets and boots. Kiowacarries a bible--he is a deeply religious Baptist. Mitchell Sanders carries condoms, and Norma Bowker carries a diary. Rat Kiley, the medic, carries comic books. The nights are cold, the ground is wet, and you can bleed to death very quickly, so they carry ponchos and bandages. Almost everyone carries, or "humps," photographs. Jimmy Cross carries two photographs of Martha, one where she leans against a wall (he wonders who took the picture) and one where she is playing volleyball, her left knee supporting all her weight. He stares at that knee, remembering when they went to see the movie "Bonnie and Clyde" together. He had touched her knee, and she had given him a look that made him take his hand away. " Chapter 1, pg. 5

The literal "carry" becomes a figurative "carry" as the book transitions to the intangible,  the injurious, the inevitable.  The book as a whole begs the question of how much one can carry.  How does one deal with the demands of carrying beyond one's perceived capacity?

Mary Poppins had a magic bag (or Hermione Granger, if you prefer) which held an infinite amount of tangibles.  What does the vessel look like that would house our intangible "stuff"?

Let's imagine what that could maybe look like; each of us wearing our problems and cares in a container.  I see images of fanny packs, camel backs, baskets on heads, change purses, U-haul trucks, and luggage on rollers.  How often would we feel compassion for those trekking through their day with a wheelbarrow of worry or a tanker of trouble?  How quickly might we come to resent the passers-by light on their feet with a mere pillbox in their pocket?

Truth is, the volume of our "stuff" is not proportional to its container.  How we deal with our stuff is.  The chance encounter with a person toting a load of emotions, guilt, and heaviness the size of a mustard seed would not be someone for whom to resent their cakewalk of a life, but someone to learn from.  It would be wrong to assume that person hasn't been through the gamut of human tribulation.  Likewise, it is equally erroneous to assume the one found strapped to a shipping container bears the largest burden of events and trials.

Instead, how about we not judge at all?  There is no happiness which comes from comparing our place in life to another's.  However, there is joy found in helping others to reduce their stress or in standing in the light of those who have mastered and reduced their weight into more sensible packages.

Jesus sets a great example for this mastery.  Matthew 11:30 reads "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

When I received my second cancer diagnosis at age 41 two weeks ago, I slowly felt my own burden get heavier and heavier as my mind raced through all the scenarios for my near and distant future.   Normally, I carry a duffle bag of concern.  I quickly stuffed every available corner and pocket of that bag 'til it was nearly bursting open.  Tonight, at Meditation class, I realized it would behoove me to upgrade to a nice Samsonite hard-sided piece of luggage with wheels.  I am now toting this around more easily, and I know that in the coming weeks, I will reduce it little by little.  It won't be an easy process, but with the help of meditation, mindfulness, perspective, and faith, I might get it all into a backpack someday soon.  Like the toilet paper in my purse, I probably don't need most of it.

In the meantime, don't be afraid to talk with me about the cancer or any of the things in your own wallet/purse/hobo stick.  I'm the same girl I was a few weeks ago, but with a bigger suitcase.  Stopping to talk with you might mean we can both rest, and enjoy a human moment.