I’ve been doing some clearing out around the
house. Clothes that I’m never going to wear again (farewell to the pantihose!),
books going to a synagogue’s annual sale, kitchenware I don’t use any more.
I’ve also shredded 40 years’ worth of journals.
I’ve schlepped them across continents and oceans, but they served their purpose
in providing a forum for me to work through things as they happened. I don’t
need them any longer.
Fun fact: back at the turn of the century, I
was living in London and going through some challenging things at work. On a
vacation to Normandy, I somehow left the current journal in the toilette of a
restaurant somewhere around Deauville. Didn’t notice until I got back to London.
I pondered for a while—like I said, challenging things and I was pretty
forceful in the language I was using to work through them. But I decided that I
really wanted it back—for one thing, I was only halfway through the pages, and
it was a really good format. So I faxed the restaurant, asking if they’d, uh,
found it; if so, if they could mail it to me (at my expense) I’d be grateful.
They had, they did and I was.
Here’s another fun fact: when I went
on pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela 45 years ago, my journal was one of
three books I carried with me in my panniers. (The other two were Henry IV,
Part 1 and Montaigne’s Essays.)
Within about three months of
returning to the US, I was already mythologizing what an amazing, wonderful
trip it was. A couple of glances at the journal reminded me that it rained a lot
during that journey and that I didn’t feel fully clean all the while I was biking and staying in hostels.
Okay, well—40 years of journals results in
nearly three large Hefty bin bags of shreds. I’ve put a few gallons into my
composter, but decided that my almost completely clay ground might benefit from
having some of the bits worked directly into it. So I dumped about half a bag
on the ground and did my best to do that.
You’ll see from the video that I was not
entirely (or even mostly) successful. Not only is there clay, but a crap ton of
roots, which make it really hard to turn the dirt over. So I left it, figuring
that eventually the rain and heat will help it decompose and do some of the
work of amending the soil.
What I’ve discovered is that this has become a
squirrel playground, which makes me literally laugh out loud. I mean, look:
Turns out that clearing out your life has
unexpected benefits.
©2024 Bas Bleu
