(Aug. 6, 2010) Recently, Jane got up close to an idea, looked it square in the face and thought, “Well this isn’t what I paid for.” Suddenly, she felt like a sucker who had bought into the thought of what something should be, rather than understand exactly what such an investment was.
And with that, Jane has buyer’s remorse. And other times, she’ll comparison shop. She’ll spend her time wondering how long a person has owned their home, how long a couple has dated, how old her good friend was when she took her first major step, officially entering adulthood. And then Jane will turn the lens on herself and wonder why she hasn’t bought anything yet, not even anything on sale.
The thing is, Jane doesn’t necessarily hunt for the sale, but more for the rarity item, the one that’s tucked back behind the front store items, the one-of-a-kind piece that no one else wants, because they don’t see it for more than it is.
What Jane is looking for takes a lot of searching. Much time passes while she holds out as others choose, settle down and expand their lives, grow their roots and blossom. But what she has to do needs to be by her own time clock. Her flowers bloom in conjunction with the sundial, the clock that can’t be set forward, neither can it be turned back. If the sun doesn’t shine one day, or if it’s cloudy, then time simply waits. And so does Jane.
So this is how Jane feels, in this middle place – this suspension in time – before things as she knows them, things as she has come to love them, will all change. Summer at the beach will soon turn into Fall and when the crowds thin out, she will be left to her own thoughts, pinpointing exactly where she is on her own internal track.
Once Jane sets out to define her actions, to separate and categorize them, they begin to fall into certain files –files that are labeled with daunting titles. Maybe it’s because Jane is afraid to do something in theory and to think about doing anything builds it into something more than it actually may be.
Now, in this middle place, Jane doesn’t want to stay and she can’t make herself go. Change isn’t a bad thing and Jane knows this, but specific actions that are associated with Jane’s past ignite familiar emotions, memories of impermanence.
But “baggage” is just a negative connotation to describe the fact that people have lives and pasts that have brought them to where they are now. Upon realizing this and keeping that idea she brought in her back pocket, Jane decides to pack up, fill a few cardboard boxes to the brim with the sum of all her parts and tape them tightly shut. Those items that kept jutting out and that have kept her up at night, those pieces that have served as anchor to various choices – they’ve finally been labeled and stored. And this time, as Jane moves purposefully into her future, such a label as “PAST” doesn’t seem so scary anymore.
just jane. 