The Purge

Purging. I have done it before. And though it may be ugly, I have learned that beauty follows. The time has come once again for me. It is not- no, can not be- only a physical and material cleansing, for once one begins to rid themselves of unnecessary things, it truly follows that a spiritual cleanse will almost simultaneously occur.

The true difficulty is not in ridding myself of the unnecessary or unwanted, but of things I hold on to for sentiment's sake. The scent of my great-grandmother's tiny perfume bottle, now long empty. I can smell her, feel her breath, touch her skin once again. The box of old photographs, depicting early family history. The depth of dark eyes staring at me through decades. If all these are held in memory, do I truly need the things? Are they taking up space which may be needed for something else? Or perhaps the space should remain that. Space. Openness, as a stance of allowing breath and life and newness.

As I brush away dust on what is in my hand, I am reminded of how a soul can truly shine if the sediment is removed. As I place precious books in a box, I know that a child or woman or friend in need will be grateful. Perhaps some have met their use, and are ready to go back into the earth to be reborn.

The question is, am I ready to be cleansed? To endure the scraping of the dust and the empty spaces? Am I ready to be reborn?