It's Inanimate

The last time I met with thru-hiker, Morning Glory, she offered to give me her kitchen setup complete with her homemade stove, stand and windscreen. The gesture was overwhelmingly generous and I had a surprised look on my face when I said, “this is one of the only relics you have left from your AT experience.” I regarded her homemade stove which originated from a tomato paste can and had collected a decade’s worth of rust.

She smiled at me and said, “It’s ok, I have a really easy time letting go of things.”

When Morning glory returned, she was hit with fast paced pressures of civilization and burned all that she owned. Everything but her lucky Susan B. Anthany coin and her stove. She then packed up an extra shirt a pair of socks and her stove and hitch hiked cross country to live among the homeless in Arizona because it was the closest thing to being on the trail, living among people who carried all that they owned.

I did not take her stove, I couldn’t possibly, she had already given me her lucky Susan B. Anthony coin that accompanied her on her 2000 mile trek from Georgia to Maine and there was something so hallowed about her set up, but her words have stuck with me ever since.

Letting go of the possessions that we own, that we believe define us takes a little push or a deadline in my case. I’m going through all of my clothes and trinkets and reading the letters and cards that I kept from birthdays and ballet summer camp and I’m giving away lots of it.

As I pan through my closet, each piece of clothing stirs up a memory, and I realize that I have held onto most of them because of what they represent, some of which have not been worn in over a year. So as I toss these articles of clothing in the planet aid bags there is a little tug in my chest but Morning Glories words tell me to let go and I do.