Attachments

     I am seventy-six years old and am facing downsizing. That means going through all the stuff I have accumulated over the years. The first item on the chopping block is a record collection partly inherited and partly accumulated by me over the years. Some I havent played in years, just dusted. Others are regulars that have been stalwarts that are echoes of youth, with the memories of the journey learning the value and usefulness of money and time. When I had free time I didnt have money and when I had money I didnt have free time.

    The rite of passage, each record a mark of time, a link with history. Travelling through days and nights of growing up. A solid foundation recalled by every song, a step back in time to the age of ignorance and innocence. Downsizing is letting go, letting go before my mind forgets the links the music makes with who I am and who I was. Not that they are valuable, the vinyl with nicks and scratches marking the glitches of my days.

    Why are the memories necessary to recall, or are they the first feelings experienced, the first taste of the nature of life, the blossoming of love, the battle scars of love. Is the attachment the foundation of the memory, the touch of the past in the present, is it necessary to nurture who I am, what I am. Does the memory create the stitch along the path that is important, or a status of wealth, a need to hold onto something, a way to touch yesterday without having to relive the experience, a need to know that the experience was felt, or are feelings what holds us together. 

    As we forget or lose the link in our mind to our past, do we forget who we are, who we were, is it necessary to touch the times of our lives when we first felt something, so we can see we have aged, though our minds see ourselves as ageless as our bodies deteriorate with time.