6:50 a.m. - Saturday, Feb. 22, 2003
Ms Leslie's One Note

Oh yes, I have been writing. I just haven�t been posting. Yesterday, for instance, I wrote a long entry all about Mel �The Brat�, who first wrote me privately the other day and then posted to my guestbook. I went on for a long time about how I missed her, and what a good friend she was. Then I deleted it all because it upset me to think back to that old life and all I left behind, both the good and the bad. The Brat was one of the good things and I still miss her.

I sure don�t miss the bad stuff though. Lots of negative energy floating around Valdez, there is. The whole town is ill and needs a series of huge group sessions with a team of mental health professionals to help guide it back to reality. I�m crazy, but I figured out how to get help. Valdez is just crazy and will likely always be that way.

But then, see? The negative energy is infectious. The more I think of that place, the darker my mind gets. I start to forget that some of my best friends were there too. And my family. I need to just leave it alone. Too many deep breaths; not nearly enough happy thoughts.

I bought a fairy from a friend in New Zealand for my granddaughter a couple of years ago. It was a marvelous creature; made from porcelain hand-poured, fired and painted by my friend, and dressed in the most gorgeous Vietnamese silk. My granddaughter loved it, and still, as far as I know, keeps it in her room as a prized possession.

The thing is, although I didn�t say so, I loved the fairy so much, I hated to give her away. I was jealous of my own granddaughter. So the other day, I bought another one from New Zealand. She�s a little different from the first, but every bit as beautiful. I�m still waiting for her to arrive in the mail, but I�m excited to see her.

It�s another one of those little breakthroughs for me. I�m still fighting that little problem I have with owning things. Buying a bookcase, dresser and shelves last fall went a long way for me. It helps me be more comfortable in my own house, but it also makes me anxious. I feel burdened by this stuff. It makes me want to escape. I�ve said it before; for me, freedom really is just another word for �nothing left to lose�. And yet it�s a punishing kind of freedom.

So anyway, I decided that I need to only own things I really love. I don�t know. If I have a bunch of stuff I love, it might kill me to lose it again. But I�m going to try looking at it a different way.

Maybe I�ve told this story already. I don�t remember. If I have, just hang in there. I�ll keep it short. A friend in Valdez (insert invective here) brought a souvenir home for me from a trip once. It was a large ceramic mug, like a German beer mug, made at Leavenworth Prison and sold in their gift shop. I did love that mug. I could get a whole tray of ice in it and still have room for a can of Mountain Dew. I drank from nothing else.

At about the same time I received the mug, I read something; I don�t remember where. It was a zen thought about possessions. Basically, it said that we should try to visualize our loved possessions as broken or destroyed, because eventually they would be broken, and we would be more prepared for their loss.

After I left her behind in Valdez and once it was pretty clear I was not coming back, my ex-wife sent some boxes to me with some of my belongings in them. Among the papers, pictures and mementos, I found that mug. It was like seeing an old friend and once again, I found myself drinking exclusively from it. But the mug also reminded me of that zen thought. I actually did visualize my mug as being broken into pieces. It made me sad, but it was also nice because it wasn�t broken yet and I always knew I could enjoy it at that moment.

Then, about a year later, I got a fabulous idea. In this Mississippi heat, ice melts fast. A Coke with ice in it gets watery if you leave it for long. So I got the idea that I could put my mug in the freezer to keep the ice, or the icy drink cold when I wasn�t thirsty. That worked out pretty well�. for one day. I forgot about the mug and left it overnight. When I came back to get it out of the freezer, it had frozen solid and broken itself into pieces.

Well, I know this seems like a lot of emotions to have over a clay mug, but as I looked at it, shattered by the ice, I was sad, but not heartbroken. My grieving had been already done. I was able to say inside that it was a good mug while I had it and then put it away.

So� my goal in owning things is related to that mug. I only want to own things that bring me joy whenever I look at them or use them. I don�t have the strength to have a bunch of junk around me that has no particular meaning. On the other hand, I need to remember to see everything in it�s final state. I know there�ll come a time when I�ll need to leave behind those things I love. I need to enjoy them in the moment so I can bear to lose them when the time comes. My new fairy isn�t the first of those things I have that I love, but she�s the first thing I�m getting with my new consciousness and goal. If I can have her for one day, that�ll be enough. The second day will be gravy. And there will be a last day sometime.

It�s all about harmony. My rant about harmony sounded silly, perhaps, but it�s making an awful lot of sense to me. It�s about building my own chord. Whether I know it or not, I�m already a part of the harmony in the universe. I already have a chord that�s uniquely my own. But that chord isn�t something I�ve built. Like two fists pounding a keyboard, my chord is just an assembly of random notes, and the sound isn�t as pleasing as it could be.

When I receive my fairy, I�ll be sounding a new note in my life. I�ll put her where I can see her and each time I do, I�ll �hear� that note and it�ll be a wonderful one. With time, part of my own harmony will sound more strongly as my eyes fall on my flowers, my bear, my book case, my fairy. I replaced the hard kitchen chair I sit in to write here the other day too, and while it lasts, even sitting in the softer chair becomes part of my chord.

Mine will never be the same as yours. It may never be even pleasing to you. My chord might be disturbing or even weird, but it�ll be mine, designed and built by me and it�ll blend with yours and all the others to become part of the song of the stars. And that�s pleasing indeed.

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