On Charcoal, Change, and Carrying Baggage

Mobile: Whoops (Approx. 16” x 19”)

On baggage 

“But isn’t it all bad?” demanded crow. 

“If you don’t keep something to unpack,” Fox asked, “how will you ever have what you need to get where you want to go?”

Thoughts while making

Can you do me a quick favor? Before you read this post, can you reach into your pockets and – in the comments below – write down what’s there?

Thanks. Now, onward…

I was at the store the other day and an older gentleman in front of me was on a deep-space exploration of his pockets.

He was standing at the register and he was searching for a dime. But as he probed further and further into his (seemingly) endless pockets, out came everything else:

* Car keys

* Crumpled dollar bills

* A rosary with well-worn black beads

* Two horse-tablet-sized pills

* Faded receipts

* A small gold crucifix

* And change. Lots and lots (and lots) of change. Nickels, pennies, and quarters. But no dimes.

I stood there thinking about how normal this scene was when I was growing up, adults with who-knows-what filling their pockets, whole hands lost in the stretch of polyester.

And I was thinking how I never understood it. Why would someone willingly carry around so much baggage? Noisy. Uncomfortable. Heavy.

Recently, I’ve taken to carrying 3 things in my left front pocket: lip balm, a broken piece of Japanese binchotan coal, and a tiny silver cylinder with Buddy’s ashes.

Every so often, I reach into that pocket – my fingers wrapping around that metal cylinder – and I’m flooded with tender memories of my dear cat.

It’s baggage that I – gratefully and intentionally – carry around with me every day, reminding me of who I am and what I value at my core.

Eventually, that man found his dime, and I could see it made things right in his world. We don’t have to understand another’s baggage to honor its value without judgment.

What baggage are you carrying today that you never want to let go of?