My Dad's Stuff

My dad died quite in the middle of doing things. He was not planning on going.

I've realized that it's in death that we drop our masks. What we've been hiding remains, unless we've been cleaning up all along. When we match our inner worlds with our outer worlds, there won't be so many messes when we're gone. My dad was a great guy but he kept things that didn't need keeping.

This past weekend in the Yoga Teacher Training I was teaching a bit about Saucha, or purity, and I was reminded of an event that had happened exactly a year ago...

We had heard that things had turned in my dad's health - he had cancer - and we should come right away. I spoke to him and told him I was on the way. I'd be there in two days. My father died while my sister and I were en route to visit him. So we got to Texas and our trip was different than we had been planning. Instead of a visit with him we were left with his stuff and dealing with what you have to deal with when someone close to you dies.

One of the days while we were down there was a holiday, so most things were closed and we didn't really have much to do so we thought we'd go open his storage locker we were told he had. My dad used to wear a fanny-pack and his keys were all attached to that. All of his keys. His friend told us he knew were the storage locker was and could take us there.

We drove out to the edge of town where he thought the storage place was, and sure enough, there was the slightly hidden driveway. When we got to the entrance, our father's friend left us. He only knew which place the storage locker was at because he drove my dad there every once in a while to drop off his checks to pay for it. He had no idea which locker it was. "Which way did he walk when he went to the locker?" we asked him. He didn't go to the locker - he just went to the office and dropped off the check.

We called the number on the closed office door to see if someone could let us know which locker of the hundreds on the site were our father's. They couldn't help us for one thing because they don't give out that kind of information to just anyone and second thing, the computer was in the office, not where we were calling.

We didn't have much else to do and it was just my sister and me with our little rental car and a whack of keys so we decided we'd hunt for it. "Do you think he'd have a big one or a little one?" "Which kind of lock do you think he used?" No clue. So we proceeded to go to each locker and try each key. Maybe this wasn't even the right place. Maybe he didn't have a locker or it was inside. Who knows.

As we went up and down the gravel roads of lockers trying each rusty lock a few times with different keys we started to imagine what could be so important that he'd have a locker even though he had a home with plenty of space. Maybe this would be our inheritance. Maybe he's got something really interesting to leave us. Maybe he'd been secretly stashing collections that would have value. Maybe it's full of good things we can sell or use.

Finally, at practically the last locker, at the last corner we turned, my sister yelled out that she'd found it. This is the one. We took a big breath. This was it. My dad's treasures. His secrets for us.

So you can already imagine or scroll down and see the pictures of what we found. A big bag of nothing. Old computer parts. Old ones. Dusty photo albums that were damaged from water and rodent excrement. A bar stool. Broken fishing rods that hadn't been used in years. That was my dad. It couldn't have been any other way, of course. It had to be that way. That's just how we was and we loved him.

But really? Come on, Dad. You spent money you didn't have every month to keep this pile you couldn't confront and sort through. Maybe if we had visited Texas a year earlier we could have helped clean it out when he could tell us what was special about each thing. But we didn't do that.

So I came home to my mom and family here saying please clean out your stuff now - tell us what's important so we can know why you kept what you did. Where are the keys to the motorcycle and the house and where is the important stuff? Do you have insurance? Where are the papers we need? I want to make sure I leave a trail so my loved ones can know what I meant and was up to.

In the end of course it doesn't matter. Clean up or don't. But if you clean up while you can, you may get to experience the satisfaction that comes when you align yourself, the energy that's freed up when you know where things go. When you know what you have and you don't keep more than you can handle.

After the trip out to Texas to attend my father's funeral and handle some of his affairs, I came home with a strong message for everyone in my family - Please Clean Up Your Stuff So We Don't Have To Do It When You're Dead. It's a drag.

It's been a year exactly since we were down there saying goodbye to my dad. Since that time I notice him all over the place. In the newspaper Sudoko puzzles, in the spider plant like he used to keep in all his houses, in my memories of crazy experiences like the ones I just shared here. He's not gone, he's been converted, but shit, it would have been nice not to have had to clean up his big mess.

New Life

In Ottawa, recycling goes out every other week, so if one week you put out plastic and metal, the next week you put out paper. And although I'd done a bunch of clearing out before last week's garbage, the stacks of paper had been waiting for many days patiently on the back step for me to put them out.

I came home after yoga last night and began the process of putting the garbage out and then I was face to face with my resistance. Even though I had already decided that my old Who songbooks and magazine articles were ready to go, when the time came to actually put that stuff out on the curb I still wanted to hang on. I considered retrieving some of the notes of great ideas I've had that were in the pile.

Fortunately I have some company around this stuff right now and I was able to have a short conversation about the kind of life I want. I am so ready to have things change. Holding on to this old stuff is the old ways trying to survive.

As I get older I get even more sentimental as each item reminds me of another time and place or brings back memories of people I used to know. As sweet as those moments of memory are, I feel loaded down by the storing of the stuff. I feel faster with less stuff. I feel clearer. Healthier even.

Patanjali's yoga sutras talk about reincarnation. I'm not sure what I believe about life after death but I live like it doesn't matter. So the way I use the yoga sutras is to view reincarnation as happening within this very lifetime. Old ways of being dropping as new ways arise. I've experienced it myself. This conscious letting go of old material stuff is in a way walking into a new life with my eyes open, my arms outstretched (when they're not folded against my chest), saying yes.

(And in less lofty terms I'm just cleaning up after myself :) God forbid I get into an accident and you guys have to come and make sense of my stuff and try and figure out what was important to me versus what I just hadn't gotten around to throwing away...)

Letting it Go

I mentioned a post or two back that I'm doing spring cleaning a bit late. I figure I'm doing last year's, make that the spring of 2008's spring cleaning, oh who am I kidding? I've had junk that seemed valuable that I've been holding onto for years so it actually is not surprising that I have mixed feelings about seeing some of that stuff go.

Here's how I like it to happen. I like to identify the things I'm ready to have removed and have a good friend take them away, preferably in their own car to a place I don't know about where I'm not going to see the stuff again. I imagine the objects that I stored in their pristine condition will go to new homes like cats that are delivered to an animal shelter. I mean, they all get adopted, right?

What I don't like to happen is for me to have to put the stuff in my car and drop it off somewhere. That's not my preference. I'll do it, have done it, will do it again, but it's not the best. I'm not sure what I don't like about it but I know it makes me a bit squeamish.

Sometimes in the past, I've had friends put bigger things out on the curb and even though it's not garbage day, due the neighbourhood I'm in, those things invariably get snatched up within an hour or two. I'm always thinking, what if it rains? Then that "thing" I've saved will be ruined. C'mon, could we get over it already?

My friend, who's been helping me with this round of clearing stuff out, has not gone so far as to drive my stuff away, but he has helped me load my car and has put things out on garbage day. And guys, I don't have a big place, it's not like this is tons of stuff, but it's a lot of stuff. He says I should follow the process, be responsible and aware the whole way along, blah blah blah. And I'm like, "couldn't you just take it to that magic place where formerly-important things go?"

So the other day after garbage day when I saw a guy on a bike wrestling with my old ghetto blaster, I just about lost it. First of all, I thought we were taking electronics to the recycling place, which we had done last week already. Then I wondered where that had been stored and if the guy had come to my back porch and taken it before I was ready to give it away. Or did it go on the curb on Tuesday night and he was just getting his hands on it now? "Luc!" I later queried, "where'd you put that ghetto blaster? How come some guy on a bike has it?"

It didn't matter. By that point I was laughing my head off. If I wanted to make sure it went to a good home, I had proof. It was not a pocket-sized unit. He was a small man on a small bike riding past the homeless shelter. He was super-motivated to take that thing away and as I walked past him struggling to balance with it on his bike I knew he couldn't know that we were performing an invisible transaction.

(He's got a red backpack on and the tape player - double deck! - is in his left hand. The top picture I pulled from the internet as I did not take pictures of the unit before it left.)