Boxes 1

Image by Skrewtape via Flickr

In May, I spent three entire weeks – seven days a week, 6 to 8 hours a day – sorting through all of my material belongings, downsizing by about 80%, and moving. I learned practical things (like how to give away items to actual people who gladly come and pick them up from your house), I learned mental things (like the years of stories stored in boxes, never seen or touched in decades), and I learned spiritual things (like the power of generosity and letting go, and the unfolding meaning of abundance in my life).

As the end of the month approached, poetry started coming to me. I did not write a single original blog post during May or most of June. But these haiku poems (which I posted on my Facebook profile) did come out of me. I share them now as a collection of impressions on movement, growth, and becoming intimate with the hidden parts of ourselves. Enjoy!

(May 30):

Haiku for Growth (came to me in the middle of the night):
“With folded wet wings,
Butterfly works to be free,
Keeping dreams alive.”

Haiku for Clearing Clutter (came to me while on my way to Goodwill with a full SUV):
“The weight of worry,
Stored in boxes, bags, closets,
Today I break free.”

(May 31):

Haiku of Moving (came to me while following Two Men and a Truck, with 6 pieces of furniture I chose to take with me):
“We want to move on,
The past screams, pleading, warning.
We breathe out, and move.”

Haiku on storage bins (came to me after another full SUV drop-off at Goodwill):
“Containers won’t store
Worthiness, Peace, Joy, Freedom.
Fill your self with love.”


Haiku for awakening:
“Grief silences me.
Years of pent-up rage numb me.
Breathing, I see me.”


Haiku on numbness:
“So much shame, silence
keeps the heart a little dull
clouded by secrets.”