Back in July, I posted an episode called Burn Your Maps with no conscious awareness of the fact that 90 days later, I would be contemplating literally doing what the closing monologue of the 2018 film Burn Your Maps suggests:

Someday, if you’re ever lost, you can find your way home. If that ever happens, if you ever realize you’re not where you belong, don’t be afraid.

Pack your clothes and all the things you know.

Pack what other people know about you.

Then leave it all behind. And come with nothing.

Leave your maps behind, too. Rip them up. Burn them.

And come. 

Even if it’s far away.

Even if you don’t understand.

Even if it’s only in a dream.

One day, you’ll be there.

In October, I will be moving nearly 300 miles from where I now live. As I slowly begin packing boxes, I’ve found my self fantasizing about selecting just my most treasured items, only what would fit in my teeny, tiny car… and leaving the rest behind.

In fact, I made a little pile in the corner of my bedroom of just those things. A small Persian rug of my grandmother’s. Hand-crocheted mother-daughter bumble bees that my daughter made for me. Some art that she made in first grade. A photo of her and one of 7 year old me. A piece of art that a friend made for me. A sacred rattle and drum and some crystals.

There are, of course, the necessities of my birth certificate and car title. Health and hygiene items. Some clothing, shoes and outer and underwear. Oh, and my computer.

But I’ve honestly felt torn about what to do with the remainder of my things. I’ve been feeling this overwhelming urge to let it ALL go. I’m happy to give things away. Or sell them.

When I ask myself why I’m so torn, I’m often confronted with a “but what if…”. What if I do need the Cuisinart that I haven’t used once in 3 years? What if that is just the lamp that would look perfect in a future home? What if I end up regretting having let go of so much? What if I can’t afford to replace things when I find that I do need them?

I recognize that it is a luxury and a privilege to even have these questions to ask.

And then I question whether this is about physical stuff, or not.

Pack what other people know about you.

Then leave it all behind. And come with nothing.

THIS is the invitation.

Leaving behind others’ opinions of me. Leaving behind who they think I am. Leaving behind who I’ve thought myself to be. Leaving behind all of the masks. The identities. The roles.

Which brings me back to what I wrote in July:

We have to unclench our grip. Open our hands and our heart. And release and trust. And allow. And accept. All of us. As we are. Shadow and light. In perfect imperfection. To relax. And rest.

And be.

And from here, we will know what is to be done. Not from a place grasping and doing and trying to figure it out, but from a place of knowing. From gnosis. From listening and remembering.

Letting it all go. Standing here naked. Without whatever made us us in the past. Without grasping for the future.

And so, in the spirit of teaching what we need to learn, I re-read, re-write, re-speak what I wrote. And get still. And naked. And trust. That in letting go of stuff. Letting go of the opinions of others and old masks and roles. That in leaving it all behind and coming with nothing - We are held. We are supported. Even if we don’t understand.