Stories from a life in progress.


Yesterday morning Mom asked if I'd like some new writing pads, and I said yes please, I certainly would.  One of my aunts runs a small printing shop with her husband, and they turn trimmed-off edges of paper into notepads of many sizes.  My mother just got a fresh batch, and now I've got a few of them in my desk.

I don't go through that much notepaper, honestly, but I'll still readily accept more notepads.  Because a stack of fresh paper makes me feel rich.

Part of what has been interesing in moving has been the way it reveals what's important to me, because all of those things got moved first.  Having the luxury of being able to move belongings in stages, I grabbed what I really wanted to go before other odds and ends, so at this point most of what's left at the apartment are the things I don't actually care about much.  Some of them are very useful, like my kitchen table, but I don't have any affection for them.

A lot of what moved early and everything that made me really feel at home were the things that make me feel rich inside when I look at them or use them, the things that make me feel like my life is full.  My collection of books.  My fiber and yarn.  A huge stack of blank notebooks, scored cheaply during last summer's back-to-school sales, just waiting to be filled up with words.  My small collection of nice fountain pens, and the bottles of ink to fill them with.  Fresh notepads.  My computer and iPad, for more writing and for talking to people far away.  These things give me contentment and enjoyment.

It's easy to get obsessed over money, to let currency dictate to us whether to feel rich or poor in life.  Money matters.  But by itself, it's completely worthless.  It only matters because we can trade it for other things, and it's the other things which really matter.

In this moment I'm cash-poor, but I feel rich.  I've surrounded myself with the things that make my life better, and it's surprising how few of them I need, when I've got the right things in the right proportion.  The process of moving is still a pain, but I'm glad it showed me this.  It's a lesson I needed.