White knuckles

In the beginning of this year, I made a conscious, intentional decision to not purchase any clothes for the whole of 2015. It was an idea I stole from a friend I spoke to one evening. And as someone that don’t worry too much about trends, but have a distinct serious long-term relationship with shoes, I thought this would be an easy “challenge”.

But quite to my surprise, I realized how attached I’ve become to what’s in my closet than what’s in my heart.

We all have those things, right? Those things that make us shallow. Those things that disconnects us from what’s deep, and authentic, and carries little to zero weight. Those things we Instagram every so often, and hashtag “blessed”, or on “on fleek”.

These things aren’t bad in itself. They are part of the society we are a part of. So we can’t deny them. The problem is our tight grip on them, or perhaps more accurately, their tight grip on US.

We hold on to them as if we are hanging off a cliff- our knuckles turning snow-white. We hold on to them as if losing them will be the death of us. And in reality, holding on to them is quite the death of us.

The Rabbi from Nazereth said, “If you cling to your life, you will lose it, and if you let your life go, you will save it.”

Holding on to anything that does not serve a higher purpose has never made for a great story. People are usually bored out of their minds by a story that ONLY talks about the making of millions, the buying of fancy cars, houses and clothes, holidays and caviar. Period.

Nothing more.

But the stories that do touch hearts, and inspire change, are the ones that ends with, “and then I realize life is so much more than this, or that.”

Being part of the most socially aware generation is a huge blessing, because it allow for us to be intentional about changing the world, or play our small part in that. And that can often involve just being conscious of where  the products we buy come from; whether our products aren’t stained with the blood, sweat, and exploitation of women and children that cannot speak or fight for themselves.

Do you own your stuff, or does it own you?

Do you lose it (your cool) when you lose “it” (your stuff)?

The past eight months of not buying clothes, not even socks or undies, hasn’t really changed my life. I still look at an amazing pair of shoes with much desire, like a drooling dog over an artificial bone.

But I do know my level of consciousness has been raised.

My reasons for wanting and needing are given higher priority.

My knuckles aren’t that white anymore because I’m learning to own my clothes, and not let it own me.

Perhaps I’m learning to build a better story than a better closet.

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