Those who try to follow a spiritual path often have mixed feelings about stuff. George Carlin has a great routine about our need for stuff and running out of room for our stuff. The Buddhists challenge us to address our attachments which can often include attachment to stuff. We are reminded that our stuff is ephemeral and as the play says you can’t take it with you. But some of our stuff matters because it can be the bearer of memories.

Today my 1991 Toyota pickup was towed away. It had not been running in a while and so we decided to donate it. As I saw it being loaded onto the tow truck, I felt some sadness. Grief, really. For that truck was the bearer of many memories.

For me, the 1990s was a time of transitions. All my children left for and graduated from college. My wife lived in Houston for the better part of 3 years pursuing a graduate degree. The red truck participated in many trips back and forth to campuses. The truck lived with my twins up in Minnesota for a year and then stayed with my wife during her time in Houston. With my children, the truck played a role in letting go.

The truck too played a role in special times with my wife and children. It accompanied us on trips to the mountains to gather firewood or journeys to hike in the Guadalupe Mountains. It would help us sneak outside the city limits to buy fireworks. After our children were gone, it took my wife and I on some wonderful trips. This truck is not my only attachment.

I have the razors from my grandfather’s barber shop. They bring back to me that wondrous place and its smells of cut hair and leather and Bay Rum. The razors offer me a sense of connection to my grandfather in the same way that a lump of coal on my desk connects me to the many relatives and ancestors who worked in coal mines.

I am attached to a copy of a poem I wrote about the hero of the 1960 World Series Bill Mazeroski. The poem is autographed by Maz himself. When I look at it or reread the poem, I am taken back to that wondrous day the hated Yankees were laid low by Maz’s walk-off homerun.

Many of us hold onto something not because of its inherent beauty but because of the memories the object holds. For some it may be an old baseball glove or a cut flower kept in a scrapbook. The baseball glove may be worn beyond use. The flower may be wilted. But we keep them because of the memories they hold.

Is it my imagination that, when I hold one of my mother’s rosaries, somehow I am connected with her powerful spirit?

As I continue to pursue a spiritual path where material things do not hold power, I will nonetheless cherish those things that carry the energy of my loved ones and the power of memories. For those few bits of stuff, I am grateful.

Reflection: Is there any bit of stuff to which you are attached? fell free to share that story.