Emptying the trash

I don't know why I felt compelled to zoom through my iPhoto collection tonight.  It was like cleaning out my junk drawer in the kitchen; I was not very judicious.  I just kept dumping, dumping, dumping stuff into the trash, until the trash was so full, I had to empty the trash.  2,908 photos gone now.  Saugatuck gone, Ithaca gone, pictures of myself in Columbus, Indiana gone, Tybee Island gone, out of focus pictures gone.  Pictures of rocks and sticks and things I once thought were beautiful gone.  Steelers black-and-white food day gone, triple grill in the neighborhood gone. 

I feel like I should have some more emotion about this.  Because with throwing away the pictures, I feel like I am throwing away the days the pictures were taken. And the people the pictures were taken with. But, for some reason, I don't.  I feel like my mouse hand knew it was time to click. Some part of me knew it was time to clean it out.

I did realize that I used to smile more.  My hair was shorter.  I looked happier.  With more energy.  I was -- it looked like in the pictures -- there.  In the moment.  It looked like I had greater happiness than I knew or could talk about at the time.  The body does not lie.  Nor does the face.  For all of my wishy and my washy, I was in love.  I knew love.  I gave love.  I leaned into love.  I was living and exploring and in the world. 

When I saw the pictures of the Art Museum in Detroit, I wanted to go to Detroit again.  Not with Carrie.   I just wanted to see the Diego Rivera again.  When I saw the pictures of the gorges in Ithaca, I wanted to go back there too -- with better shoes.  Same with some other places.  I want to go.  I want to do.  I want to be in the world.

There are some women I am talking with now.  One whom I could so easily lay down with -- she and I could go camping.  Hike the woods.  See ravines and sunsets upon mesas.  And another, a photographer, who I would like to know more.  I would like to have her set of eyes near my set of eyes.  I think we'd see the world, together, better than we might see it apart.  And a new friend, far away, who would teach me about political action and fighting for justice.  But I do not know any of these people well enough -- or vulnerably enough --  to simply say, join me.  Help me be in my life more.  Let me bring more life to your life.

Right now, all I can say is that the trash is empty.  Space has been cleared for another 3,000 memories. I'm nearly fifty and it's time I turn my heart over -- empty it fully so that it can fill again.