All bagged-up
MINDFUL MOMENTS # 143
I’m reading an excellent book at the moment: The Blind Assassin, by Margaret Atwood - best known, I suppose, for her dystopian novel The Handmaid’s Tale.
She is an amazing writer. I think to be a good writer of fiction is a very different thing to just being good at writing. You can write beautifully, but without a successful plot, it won’t be a “good book”. Margaret Atwood has both.
The book is a retrospective look at the life of our narrator, Iris, and her sister, Laura. It examines the events leading up to Laura’s early and mysterious death. Set in part against the backdrop of the First World War, it examines the effect this had on her parents and the children’s early life and deals with family, death, memory, grief and intrigue.
“All of it will have to be gone through, disposed of by someone or other, when I die […] I don’t envy her: any life is a rubbish dump even while it’s being lived, and more so afterwards. But if a rubbish dump, a surprisingly small one; when you’ve cleared up after the dead, you know how few green plastic garbage bags you yourself are likely to take up in your turn.”
I know this reads, on the face of it, as pretty morbid, down-trodden stuff, but I think it’s interesting because it reminds us that our lives are not defined by the possessions we have.
I was thinking over New Year’s about how small my flat is, because I had 15 or so people crammed into one space, with seemingly little to offer: two coathooks, one sofa and two chairs. But I was also thinking that I love this space, however small, and it simply forces a minimalism on me that would otherwise not be necessary.
So, then, when I read this part of The Blind Assassin, it got me thinking about what it would be like to bag up all our lives into “green plastic garbage bags” and reflect on both what would be contained within them, and what would not.
What would it look like to have all your worldly possessions in bin bags? What would be kept if you were no longer around? What matters?
I am a more materialistic person than I would like to be, I admit. I like buying things - as much for other people as myself - but buying things all the same. I find comfort in familiar objects and joy in beautiful design. This exercise, however - the imagining of our lives bagged-up after we are gone - can be both haunting and liberating.
Mindful moment: I think it’s a happy exercise to reflect on what would not be contained in those bags. What essence of you, that is not solid or tangible, would be unable to be swept up and thrown away? Where do memories go? What does it mean to be who you are, when all your worldly goods aren’t there? Where did the “you” go? What does this tell you about who you are and what is important? I hope it makes you celebrate you, for all your intangible, untouchable uniqueness, and know that your possessions don’t affect your value.
YOGA
Mindful Movement
Join us every Saturday from 11am-12.15 at the Cornerstone Community Centre in Hove for an all-levels vinyasa yoga flow class, meditation and mindfulness (mats provided or bring your own). £6 per class or £24 for 5.
Upcoming classes: January 6th, 13th, 20th, 27th
REFLECT
“I do not plan to start anew
in January
that is for spring
this is the night
in the dead of winter”
- David Gate
January is a strange month, no? It’s all at once swollen with expectation for the year ahead and yet also recalcitrant, beckoning us away from plans and into hibernation. Many people with January birthdays dislike it.
Mindful moment: How do you feel? Should we be slowly easing ourself softly into the new year, reserving all grand plans for later months? Are we really “in the dead of winter” of ourselves, like holding on empty after a deep exhalation? I suggest simply that you take what you need from this first month. Intuit your body wisdom to guide how you spend the rest of the month. Do you need rest? Movement? Play? Creativity? More plans? Fewer plans? Better plans?