Stuff and the City

By Cyndi Seidler
05/17/06

Got stuff? is the theme this week for life in my canyon. The folks here are gearing up for this weekend's Canyon Clean Up and I feel like it's party time.

I don't think others share my enthusiasm however. Not many people get excited about getting rid of junk like I do. Parting with old, unused and unwanted stuff can be difficult for some people, and I sympathize, really.

When you live in an old canyon like this one, it comes with old houses. Mine is newer, but many have been here since the wagon days. It shows, too. Older shack-like houses seem to have the most junk problems, as evidenced by the worthless collectables around the home. Must be saving stuff for a rainy day, as the saying goes.

Anyway, if you saw the amount of stuff being hauled away from just one small residential canyon area, you would be amazed. I never realized so much stuff could congregate into one weekend's clean up. Makes you feel silly bringing over a few wood panels you don't need anymore.

Last year was the first year I was able to partake in the annual spring event. I had friends over to help me rummage through accumulated stuff I couldn't toss with the rest of the usual garbage. We loaded things into the pickup that the previous tenant left here and it was good riddance, good-bye, and so-long to junk!

I felt like a free woman. And, now I'm astounded how, in just a year, I have more junk. How does this happen to me, of all people?

My buddy Brad came to my rescue this time to help me gather things for the big haul-away event. "What's this?" Brad asked, pointing to something in the garage I knew nothing about.

"I think it is left over from installing the hardwood floor," I answered.

I completely forgot about it. It was like it disappeared from my view whenever I was in the garage. Yet, there it was. Junk.

"And this?" he asked while pulling out the hardwood floor left-overs. "Want to save these?"  He was referring to the newly discovered mound of flattened boxes I had saved.

I had to think about that. The "what if" questions started rolling around my head and I found all the good reasons I might need them. But, I knew there was only one answer: let it go.

Taking my own advice isn't so easy. Then I somehow remembered the words I once had plastered on my wall above my desk, "Never regret yesterday. Life is in you today and you make your tomorrow" (L. Ron Hubbard).

How could I regret not having those things I didn't even remember I had?

That's when things got going. "Get rid of it!" I shouted to Brad. "It all must go!" I added in extreme elation at my newfound standard of living.

As more and more got loaded into the truck, I felt the need to go shopping. To replace the void of stuff? To fill up the now empty space I acquired? What? What could I possibly gain from such an action?

I stopped yelling at myself and began to rationalize.

It's just stuff. It's just stuff. I'm free. I'm free.

It isn't self-hypnosis, but it works. I convinced myself to let it all go and leave the space be what it became: space.

Eventually, just because I'm a woman, I know that won't last. But, for now, I'm happy.