Do You Own Things Or Do They Own You?

Well, I promised to catch you up on some of the more interesting things going on here in my world.  I think that I will make this a series of posts.  There honestly is too much stuff to just stuff it into one post.  Plus, I think it would be good for me to try and write shorter posts.

Our house is up for sale and we are moving.  So, there is a lot of sorting going on right now.  A decision has been made that we are NOT lugging all of this junk again.  So, a great deal of stuff is going to the church yard sale on Oct. 20.  Some stuff is taking a direct trip to the trash.  And then there is creative repackaging.  That is my way of storing all of my DVDs in cake boxes vs the original packaging so that I can now store them in a drawer or closet.  For those of you not familiar with the term "cake box," it is just the plastic circular storage box that holds DVDs.  It has nothing to do with actual cake.  Although I am now hungry for cake.  I hate how the human brain works.

I have been putting off going through my closet.  I actually tackled shoes and purses already.  Who knew I had so many shoes?  Or purses?  Aacchh.  I am still in mourning over so many of my size small cute tops that I pitched when we moved here and I now wish I had.  But, I am going to pitch anything that doesn't actually fit, because it is too big, and call it a day.  I have boxes of clothes in so many sizes that you wouldn't believe it.  And pretty much all of my "dressy" clothes are from a previous life.  They are about to be history.  However, since I pretty much live in my pajamas, who am I freaking kidding?  Oh yeah, that would be my mom.

Then there are my college clothes that I don't want to part with that have those "cool" logos on them.  And I liked my clothes "oversized" then and I was about 10-15 pounds heavier then.  But, it is memorabilia.  And this is why I dread the clothes sort.

I first read a book called RIDE THE WIND by Lucia St. Clair Robson, that was a historical fiction loosely based around the true story of Cynthia Ann Parker and the Comanche Indians, back in the early 90s.  I was fascinated by the story itself, the attention to detail on the Comanche ways, etc.  I took away more than I can even begin to tell you in one posting from that book.  But the thing that is hanging with me today is the understanding that they had about material possessions: you don't own things ; things own you.  It was a fundamental belief that Native Americans had about ownership that the white man didn't comprehend at that time. Europeans came to America for a piece of land that they could call their own.  And the Native Americans didn't understand land ownership.  Land was never meant to be owned.  It was a core value that they simply didn't share.  You stayed on one piece of land too long and you drained it of its resources.  If you didn't buy it and title it, you didn't have anything to call yours.  Buy it from who?  And round and round it went.

Sitting where I do, I see both sides of that argument.  I also see that the Native Americans are right about things owning you.  The less you have, the less you have to lug around.  The less you have to sort.  It seems like more is better because everyone wants it.  But is it really?  Or are we just conditioned to think more is better?

When have you been happier?  When you've had more or less?  Or did it matter?  Is the problem when we make our happiness contingent on things?  In other words, if you need the things... that is the time you absolutely should get rid of them.  Because happiness only will come from within.


image found on facebook.... so shocking

THIS ISN'T POLITICALLY CORRECT

If you are easily offended, please skip this post and move on to the next.  This post is not going to be politically correct and it might make you angry.  If you do read on and get mad and then post something out of rage, well okay.  In all likelihood, I will adamantly disagree with you, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.

Yesterday I attended Corey's school play for Black History Month.  It was a series of skits that the school put together.  His school is a fine arts school so there was a lot of singing and dancing.  After the first skit a white kid named Jordan came out to warm up the crowd.  He was still onstage when a black boy and girl came out and told him to beat it.  They said it straight out.  "This is our show.  You're not black.  Get off the stage."  This was not ad libbed.  Whoever scripted this intended it to be funny.  I was shocked and then I was really angry.  It really made the rest of the show hard to swallow.  But I thought it was very representational of where we are at as a society.  White History Month would never fly.  And if it did there would be riots if that sort of dialogue happened on a stage anywhere.  How has this happened?

Back in 1995, I worked for a while at an engineering company that built bridges.  The company was owned by a woman.  A white woman.  As business owners go, particularly in construction, women are still considered minorities and are entitled to the benefits therein.  She came back to the office after attending something having to do with a minorities meeting.  It was a long time ago but I think that the government is required to give a certain percentage of their work to minority business.  Anyway, she was steaming after this meeting.  This black man had told her that she had no business being at that meeting because blacks were the only "real" minority.  He was lucky he didn't leave with a heel permanently embedded in his ass.

The truth is that blacks got a raw deal in this country when we brought them here to be slaves, but it was because a lot of white people stood up that it was abolished.  And then there was segregation, but because Rosa Parks sat down and a lot white people supported that by standing up, it was abolished.  Black people didn't get where they are today all by themselves.  A lot of white people held out a hand and said, "Here, let me help."

The people who have a right to still be angry are the native americans.  They were already here.  This was their home; we saw it, we wanted it, and we took it.  And I don't see anything on any calender celebrating a  month for them.  We stole their land, killed their families, broke every peace treaty we ever made with them, and labeled them savages.  The only reason I can think of that they don't get a celebratory month is because there is still nothing to celebrate.