The Treasures That Lie Within Us
"Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames."
First came my guitar. But which one? I have four. And then what about my ukuleles? Well I can always buy a new guitar and that was too confusing, so I went onto the next thing - my record player. It's not an antique. I think my parents bought it at Kmart or something, so I can always replace that too. Scratch that off the list. Then my eyes scanned to my beautiful new Tibetan singing bowl my boyfriend got me for Christmas. Uhhh, I'd just have him buy me another one too. This was when I started scaring myself with my absurd ideas of what things are important to me: my CD and DVD collection, my library of books (half of which I haven't even read), my dozens of pictures on my walls. Oh my pictures. They're mostly digital so I can just print them out again. But that would mean I would have to take the computer! On to the next: my Beatles blanket (you know, so I wouldn't be cold standing outside watching my house burn). What about my pillow? Yes, I thought about my pillow just for a second, and its sweet perfection between softness and firmness. I went through countless other things like my National Geographic Magazine collection and my two trunks full of souvenirs and memories, including old middle school notes, when I finally decided I would try with all my might to push my Grandfather's piano out of the burning house.
After this mind fiasco, I meditated on the outcome and came to a conclusion I've always feared to admit. I, Lauren Madrigal, am a material girl. As hard as I try to be happy with everything I already have, I still go out shopping every week to buy new things. My drawers and closet can barely hold anymore wardrobe, yet I continue to complain I have nothing to wear. Whenever I travel anywhere outside my 50 mile radius, I feel the need to bring a souvenir home and find room for it on my cluttered dresser and shelves. I have an overflowing collection of piano music because I find it sacrilegious to throw sheet music away. I picked up a new hobby painting wine bottles and now there are ten empty ones sitting on my bedroom floor waiting to be painted. Don't even let me get started on the trunk of my car.
So what do I do? How do I fix this? First, I will listen to one of my favorite Jack Johnson songs, Gone, and truly take in the lyrics this time: "Look at all those fancy clothes, but these can keep us warm just like those. And what about your soul? Is it cold? Is it straight from the mold and ready to be sold?Cars and phones and diamond rings, bling bling. Those are only removable things. What about your mind? Does it shine? Are there things that concern you more than your time?"
OK now that that's done, I will make a change. I'm remembering back on a yoga class many months ago which was based around letting go. My wonderful instructor explained to us the importance of letting go of materials, decluttering our lives to help declutter our minds. However, I never truly acted on this message. This week, I plan to change that. I will be patient with it, because after all, this is a lifestyle change we are talking about.
Now that my rant is complete, I finally know what I would take if my house was burning to the ground. I had to sit and think about it for a while, contemplating on what I have that cannot be bought or replaced. The only thing I found was a picture. A picture I have framed on my dresser of me when I was young sitting on my brother Christopher's lap. I was only able to share my life here on earth with Chris for ten years and I want that picture for the rest of my time here without him. It can't be replaced or bought. Just looking at it made me realize how much treasure hunting I need to do. But I'm not planning on looking anywhere other than within myself. That way, nothing can destroy them. Those kinds treasures cannot be burnt in a fire. They are the only ones worth searching for.