About 1-2 weeks ago, I did some physical labor in a warehouse, moving a bunch of paper products, janitorial supplies, etc. onto pallets and shuffling them around with pallet jacks. It was a new experience for me, and I was quickly humbled by the fact that (1) I seemed to be the least physically coordinated person there, and (2) my feet hurt so bad after the 6th day I could barely walk. On the 7th day I rested. And by rested I mean quit.
Shortly afterward, just as my feet bones were finally re-joining each other, like continental drift in reverse, I started getting sick. As in, sore throat and nasal congestion. The congestion is still lingering, and day-before-yesterday I read an article about how fasting basically fixes anything, so I’m testing it out. I haven’t eaten in like 40 hours. Just water.
Now I’m heading down to the garage to begin separating everything I own into piles of:
Here’s the tricky part though: everything in the Keep pile has to fit in a 2005 Toyota Corolla. Why? Because in about a week, I’ll be leaving Texas, and the idea of ditching most of my worldly possessions somehow seems preferable to packing, finding storage, renting a moving truck, towing my car, etc.
Nah. Fuck all that. Plus, as far as I can tell, none of these objects bring me any peace of mind. They’re mostly distractions. Where’s that sense of security I was promised?
I’ve read many stories about people who ditched their shit and found happiness thereafter. I’m hoping it works for me too.
This Bible passage sounds promising:
“It is easier for a camel to find its way through the eye of a needle than for a man with tons of shit to find Heaven.”
Oh…I almost forgot the “stinky” part of this post. Whatever is happening in my starving body right now, it seems to be creating quite an exquisite odor in my armpits. I don’t know how to describe it other than dank. I have dank pits.
That is all.