Boxes Full of Dust

Everyone has a history that is unique to their given human experience. Everyone has a past full of boxes; containers of memories, ideas, belief systems, experiences that shape, mold and guide the subtle shifts into the being we are today versus yesterday, last month, last year.

It was a transcendental week on the ranch. Nearly everyone has packed up and left for the winter even though it looks and feels like early October. The private paradise I get to call home feels larger now, more rugged, more remote with the lack of human energy buzzing about.

Wednesday I chose to tear off the blinders and examine my core. To take a deep dive and see what’s laying about the attic of my psyche. Dust. Boxes and boxes full of dust. Every box I looked at, struggled to open but tore off the long locked lid and peaked inside was full of nothingness. No presence, no torment, no pain, just… dust from what was.

I am the man I am today. He is not the man he was a year ago, as evidenced by this site’s history. I arrived a man with heavy baggage, laden with oh so many boxes long since sealed, stacked and sometimes buried. The full reboot took until late Thursday but the facts are clear. The attic is now freshly cleaned. The boxes full of nothing but the idea of the past could simply be examined for what they were – the past. They are not the present, not the future, and they were oh so heavy to schlep around all these years.

There is no need to carry them any more.