In my primary bag — my “it” bag (which is a standard-size knapsack) — there is only so much room and only so much weight that can be borne. That means sacrifice.
Today my glorious binder (replete with blank loose-leaf paper, dividers and pockets) gets replaced with my electronics.
This shift, like many, is not without pain, sadness and a sense of loss.
As of this morning, it’s in with the electronics and out with the binder — the electronics being my laptop (which still needs to be downsized), camera, smartphone that I use for music, little speaker, iPod Shuffle, tripod, accessories and instruction manuals. Oi! That’s a lot of stuff.
In transitioning away from a binder (it used to be a lot more than one), I am left with papers full of valuable notes to deal with. Some information will get transcribed to the the computer and some hand-written onto much-smaller spiral notebooks. I’ve gathered all my papers-without-a-home and placed them into a quart-size ziplock bag and temporarily into my primary bag to be processed.
While I am partly sad, I am also relieved because I am letting go of something physically heavy and bulky that has represented security to me for many years. In doing so, I find myself also letting go of some heaviness from the past that has been associated with my comfort with and need for paper. Basically, all things writing — binders, papers and supplies (OK, and books, but that’s for another day) — have served as my security blanket. Kind of like a kid with a teddy bear.
To fully let binders go is a new beginning for me and a fresh opportunity to discover who I am without the masks and walls of their protection.
I still have comfort issues with paper, but I’m really excited to be moving forward in this area. I imagine that when it’s all said and done, much time, energy, creative space and motivation will be freed up.
To realize the discomfort of what I most covet and get to a space of contemplating the letting go of it is really exciting.
To actually go through the process of letting go and releasing, despite accompanying sadness, is thrilling.
Is there something heavy you’re holding onto for comfort and security?
What could your life look, sound and feel like if you gave it up?