Dropping my baggage

The original meaning of dropping or leaving your baggage had to do with travel. Later on, it became a psychological tool of leaving behind what no longer serves you well. This past Monday, I had the unwanted opportunity to leave my favourite suitcase in Chicago.

After a fantastic weekend event that exceeded all my expectations, four of us stayed over for one additional night. We had grand plans for Monday, and my flight didn’t leave until after five, so there was time to do things like the famed Architectural Boat Ride in Chicago.

Sadly that was not to be. The handle on my favourite, go everywhere with me,  suitcase would not go down. Pushing in the little catches, wiggling and jiggling, and carefully applying pressure – well, nothing helped. Finally, my friend Gregg took a mallet and seriously banged on it but not a budge. This suitcase was built to withstand abuse and has a lifetime guarantee and replacement with no exceptions, and most of all, I treasured this suitcase. Everywhere I went this past 12 years, this suitcase came with me.

Now what?

The airlines won’t take it because the extended handle can get caught and create havoc. I had to face the unwanted fact that I would need to leave this suitcase behind.

And I had to buy a new suitcase quickly on Memorial Day in the USA. My friend drove me to a Target, where I had five suitcases to choose from, each one less appealing than the last. I did select a duffle bag type in an unopened box. When I opened it up, it wasn’t what I thought, but I had something to put my belongings into to take on the plane.

As I said goodbye to my Briggs and Riley perfect carry-on that had expansion room for checking, if need be, I was discombobulated. Any other suitcase I owned, I could have easily parted ways with, but this was tough. I couldn’t even bring it back to get a replacement. We had reached the end of our partnership.

As I packed up my new suitcase, I was relieved to have one, but my mind was still trying to figure out a way to bring my old one back.

And then I remembered the cake.

Many years ago, I baked a birthday cake for my Mother. There were about 13 people coming to dinner and it was a beautiful sunny April day. When I went to check the cake, I saw that it wasn’t rising. It seemed odd, but I waited for five more minutes and no change. And then I saw the problem. The bowl with the dry ingredients was sitting in a corner of my counter, waiting to be added to the batter. I knew immediately that this cake would never rise. Still, I checked a couple of more times.

And then my son said. “Mom, it looks like what needs doing is to bake another cake – right now.” And I did.

The suitcase felt the same. I didn’t want it to be true. But eventually, I had to face the fact that this suitcase was not getting on the plane with me and I had best go and buy a new one.

And I did.

I am generally not attached to things, but I discovered I was attached to that suitcase. Before I left, I thanked my suitcase and decided then and there to leave all my old psychological baggage behind, as well. What no longer is necessary can remain in Chicago tucked away in that suitcase.  Somehow it seemed ok after that. New beginnings and making meaning is what I do.

I wonder what things you are attached to that one day you will need to let go of. As we live longer and simplify our surroundings, we all come up against this dilemma. I have taken false pride in my ability to do so but I came up short with my suitcase, of all things. And not a glamourous one, but rather a practical, reliable, efficient workhorse kind of suitcase. And I counted on it.

Good effort to all of you when this happens to you. I say “when” rather than “if” because it seems to be universal.

 

 

Notes

1:) Information and Registration Link for the online program that begins June 6th, hosted by the Sorrento nd Naramata Centres in British Columbia.

2:)The first suitcase is what I said goodbye to. You see the extension that wouldn’t go down. The second suitcase is holding a carry-on, my purse and a bike helmet. This was my first trip, and the photo was taken in a small hotel room in Rome en route to a bike trip in Croatia in 2012.

3:) A small joy this past weekend was meeting a stranger, a Syrian woman with her grandchild, who was walking in the opposite direction I was walking with a friend in Darien Illinois. We said hello, spoke briefly, and continued on our way.  On the return, we met again—this time, she handed each of us two beautiful daisies. We stopped and talked a longer time and I was profoundly grateful for her gift of two daisies. I also felt overwhelmingly lucky that I never had to go through what she and others go through to leave their home and come to another country. This gentle encounter was a highlight. I took a picture as the daisies dried so I could remember her and our meeting.

4:)

5:) Finally,  I will say good night. When we meet next week, it will be June. May you take good care of your precious days – by that, I mean spend time outdoors, do things that you love and hang out with people who mean the world to you. Let go of what you no longer need. Many thanks and warmest wishes, Trudy

 

Dandelions are on my mind once more. During a recent conversation with my son he was telling me about the hours of work pulling up dandelions in his yard. And worse, he didn’t get them all. He was not impressed when I explained that I love a field of dandelions—all that brilliant yellow. I climbed up on my soapbox and told him about a blog post I wrote three years ago on the dandelion. I clipped part of that post and pasted it below.

Is it a weed or a flower?

When I was a girl of 10, I came upon a field of beauty. I was on my way home from school and took a slightly different route. To my surprise, I saw a giant field of yellow flowers. As I came closer, I stopped in my tracks to admire all that beautiful yellow stretching out in front of me. The owner caught my eye, and I called out to ask if  I could pick five flowers for my Mother. To my happiness, he told me to go ahead and pick all the yellow flowers I wanted. Although I didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity, I gathered up a good bouquet and hurried home.

My Mother kindly placed the dandelions in a beautiful blue vase, and as happy as I was, my heart sank when I later overheard her friend use the word, weeds. “Dandelions are weeds.”

So the question is, when is a weed, not a weed?

There are two points of view:

Wikipedia describes a weed as a plant that is considered undesirable in a particular place.

Ralph Waldo Emerson described a weed as a plant whose virtue has not yet been discovered.

In other words, it can be either depending on your point of view. I am with Walt on this matter.

Consider the lowly dandelion. Imagine my surprise, 35 years later, when first visiting Austria in the spring, and seeing untouched fields of dandelions, in the orchards, especially the wine fields. It appears that the dandelion has a more favourable image in Europe, and in folklore, medicine was considered a reliable tonic, amongst many other things.

I recall a long walk with my granddaughter in the experimental farm gardens. We rounded a corner, and there it was, a field of gold. She kindly joined me in my enthusiastic praise for the humble dandelion. Ultimately it may be where the dandelion lives. Dandelions look great in abundance, whether in a field or a hillside. Maybe less so in a yard where a few scraggly dandelions pop up. (I give dandelion detractors that)

In truth, I love flowers and the dandelion is one more flower in my books.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Sometimes Things Work Out (the plus)

“It’s funny how things work out sometimes.”- Author: Anthony Horowitz

Today a number of wonderful things worked out. My cousin’s pathology report was better than expected and that is great news. Another wonderful person about to start aggressive and life-saving treatments is feeling fully supported in the penthouse at Tom Baker Cancer Centre. And I was on a visual high because everywhere I drove, walked and looked, there was a splurge of colour. Furthermore, I had one of those days where joy kept bubbling up unbidden. It’s nothing you can force and there was no particular reason that it arrived today, but there it was. Bubbling away like a clear, cool spring of water just below the surface and refreshing my entire body-mind.

Remember this poem?

Sometimes – by Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
the sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Isn’t it a gift when the pathology report has good news – what a surprise; cancer hasn’t spread, even locally. The treatment worked this time. No one was hurt. I got the job. We saved our marriage. We kept our home. The kids are ok. The book got written. The crops got harvested. We became friends. The event succeeded. Everyone came. The plane was on time.

We don’t ignore problems since they need our attention. But we can easily ignore what works. We can take the good for granted. Every time we notice the good and spend a little time with it, according to neuropsychologist Dr. Rick Hanson, we strengthen our neural pathways to gravitate more often toward what is working.

“By taking just a few extra seconds to stay with a positive experience – even the comfort in a single breath – you’ll help turn a passing mental state into lasting neural structure.” Dr. Rick Hanson

Notes

1:) The photos are local today; imagine the enjoyment I have taking them.

2:) “A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantment of later year…the alienation from the sources of our strength.” Rachel Carson

3:) An old Blessing from John O’Donohue with a new backdrop. Because it was recently Mother’s Day, I invite you to listen to this poem/blessing that he wrote for his Mother. His Irish lilt is soothing and beautiful. Click here

4:) Many thanks for your notes and comments and for simply showing up here to read this blog post. I am excited to receive notes requesting a letter in your postal box, per last week’s blog. I have started, and since my announcement last week, two are in the mail. (It’s a start) May you all have many joyful moments and lots of beauty to sink into during this gorgeous month. With appreciation, Trudy