Luggage; Footloose & Fancy-Free
Being footloose and fancy-free has its own constraints fears and failures,
and ecstasies,
the wins,
the losses.
I packed your bags and set out; 30 pounds (14 kilos) of luggage. And me, myself and I. We’re all in together, along for the long ride.
I’m not so sure my luggage would have as much fun without me as a traveling companion. They get “lugged” after all. I am their servant, giving a lift when they need to be somewhere. On time if they need to be on-time.
Almost daily I groom and organize their innards; If anything is dirty, I launder it.
I use beeswax on their zippers. I wipe their bottoms from worldly dirt and grime. I place them in revered places, a table or chair, rarely the floor. Sometimes they share my bed. Or my lap on a full bus.
When too much of a burden, I get grumpy, sometimes threatening to leave things behind. A pair of jeans I haven’t found much use for, something they call books, which are awfully heavy. But so far I’ve given in to all their pleas; they ask me to wait a while, wait and see…
We’re intact. We’re a team.
We agree on most things. For instance, all that glitters is not gold. I desist most purchases unless I can eat them. Amongst themselves, they’ve decided they don’t need more companions. “Enough stuff,” they tell me. It reminded me of that George Carlin skit, and I had to smile. They asked, “What’s that about?” and I pulled up the YouTube. We all laughed together til we cried, before we fell into deep sleep.
I don’t once recall thinking I had left anything behind. I think of my friends, causes, community often, but nary a thought of my stuff. Once without It, it makes you wonder why we spend so much life on having so much. Certainly I have, though I think I’m tapering down. Feeling more generous, giving things away.
One of my favorite things has always been giving gifts. Not the whole anxiety and pressure-ridden gift-giving thing for birthdays and holidays. And woe is us if we forget an anniversary!
I favor the gift of spontaneity, a word, a smile, a book that might resonate, a gift received that asks to be given away. Perhaps it’s the lazy man’s way of giving, no box, wrapping or ribbon.
—
The Gift- The Erotic Life of Property
- Lewis Hyde
“Gifts bespeak relationship. Not just the simple binary relationship of two men in a cafe, either, nor that of friends and lovers: gifts do not just move, they move outward into some larger circle.
In a gift economy, wealth is decreased by hoarding, for it is the circulation of the gift within the community that leads to increase—increase in connections, increase in relationship strength.”
—
But I digress…
So my luggage and me, we get along. I might sneak in a cutting knife cause my bamboo knife doesn’t cut it. I was looking for my eye-mask last night, realizing maybe I did leave that behind. And I’ve already lost two hats, so I expect I’ll soon purchase another.
I may yet part with a few possessions; I’ll try to hoodwink the others that it’s polite to share. What you give finds its way back to you. They’re all good-natured, and for the most part, quite educated. I’ve selected them carefully, brought them up right. They have good values. So I think they’ll go along with it. But you never know. We govern by consensus, actually “sociocracy,” but I’m pretty sure they’ll go along with it.
Occasionally, there’s a pesky one or two: a hole in the toe of a sock; once squishy grapes. But that really wasn’t their fault.
We keep each other in line, pretty much a quid pro quo. We’ve been a little over a month on the road now, months left to go. I’m feeling confident we’ve got each other’s back. I’ll keep you posted.
