Verily,
Be Careful What
You Collect

hoardingJohn Franklin

00:00 / 12:55

Verily, Be Careful What You Collect

I recently was at the beach. Well, that does not sound very interesting. Okay, I was on the edge of the continent. Doesn’t that sound more interesting than at the beach? I was on the edge of the continent. And it seemed to me that the ocean is a very big place. There are over a million whales in the ocean- so it must be a big place. Picture for a moment, if you can, a million whales. The ocean is a big place.

In a way, the ocean is like the Borg, Star Trek’s evil, all consuming cyborg monstrosity. The ocean encourages individual creativity if it survives but ruthlessly crushes flawed creativity. Darwin. It’s a fish-eat-fish world. Just the thought of it makes me feel small and vulnerable. As I said, it’s a fish-eat-fish world, and we are all on the food chain. I don’t want to be part of the food chain. Gives me the chills.

I mentioned this to my daughter, and she suggested I sign a Durable Power of Attorney for Disposition of Bodily Remains. So I did, and my remainders (Huck Finn’s word, not mine) are to be cremated and the ashes scattered. I call it bake and shake. It actually doesn’t make me feel any better at all. I still feel part of that huge, all consuming, circle.

Hindus, Buddhists, Christians and other religionists say I have it within me to rise above the food chain. Jesus said, “Verily, have I not said ye are all gods?” I’m not part of the food chain if I’m a god, right?

Rabindranath Tagore, a Nobel prize winning poet from India, said, “Verily, it maketh me laugh to think of a fish in water athirst.”

Next time you feel you’re lacking something, just remember, you’re “a fish in water athirst.”

I like all that verily stuff. It maketh me feel better.

I recently retired. Well, my “recently” is not recently to a teenager. By “I recently retired”, my 72 year old mind means five years ago. To a teenager, recently is not five years ago. Over the years, we change in how we view time. If you ask a kid how old he is, he may say “eight and a half”. No adult says, “I am 63 and a half”. Oddly, when people get really old, they often get proud of it. I have heard, “I am 103 and a half.” But, to a teenager, five years ago is not “recently”, but it is to this old guy.

There is a reason people retire by 70: it is based on life expectancy. I plan to live to 92 because Pete Seeger performed at Carnagie Hall at 92. It’s a bit random, but, I’ll settle for 92. I’ll probably want to renegotiate when I’m 91. My point is, I need to get my garage cleaned out by then. I don’t want to burden my relatives with all that stuff I thought I really need. I intend to leave by the door a small suitcase that my daughters can toss on their way out.

But, as I said, people look to retire at 70 because of life expectancy. Life expectancy for an American male (per the US CDC ) is approximately 76 1/2 years old. Retire at 70, live to 76… who the hell can clean their garage out in just 6 years?

But, I have good news. Life expectancy tables have changed their standards for how long you will live- not just the numbers but how your life is computed. This is not as frightening as it sounds. The newer table gives me some credit for managing to stay alive this long. I appreciate the statistical kudo. The newer model, exemplified by the New York Department of Labor, US Dept of Health, Social Security, so on, figures how long you are going to live to depends on how long you have made it so far. As an American male, who made it to 72 years old, my life expectancy on the newer table is 12.8 years, and that is approximately 85 years old.

This is a statistical epiphany to me for two reasons. First, I have almost 13 years, not six, to clean out my garage. More significantly, seems to me that a table considering my total life expectancy should consider how far I have made it up to now. I did not wander into traffic, I don’t hang from balconies if I can help it, and I am married. I am a 72 year old success on the life expectancy table. I want credit for that.

So, I have approximately 13 years to clean out my garage. This is important, but I need to stop collecting more “stuff worth keeping”.

A devout Christian might wonder about the relevance of this. I mean, do they have hoarders…. in heaven? Does one simply lose all one’s bad habits, like being a hoarder, upon arrival in heaven? All my bad habits will simply disappear at the proverbial pearly gates? I don’t believe it… And surely I am not to be denied entry until all my bad habits are shed? I must already be an angel to get into heaven??? Again, I don’t believe it… It doesn’t make sense. There must be a middle ground. Or is there just nothing to gather and hoard in heaven? You’re issued a harp and a toga. That’s it. All this makes the idea of heaven just too simple. And I have generally found life to be one problem laid upon another in a complicated layered web.

John Burroughs, the celebrated naturalist and writer, was close friends with Walt Whitman, American poet extraordinaire. During their lives, they knew each other well. John Burroughs, in his The Art of Seeing Things, describes Whitman as “…so sound and sweet and gentle and attractive as a man, so wise and tolerant. I never heard from those lips a word of irritation, or depreciation of any being. I do not believe that Buddha, of whom he appeared an avatar, was more gentle to all women, children, and living things.” Hmmm, pretty high praise. Burroughs went on to say, ‘Whitman believed in collecting only what he could take with him when he died.’ Well, that excludes my guitar and book collections. In other words, Burroughs explained, Whitman believed in “collecting only what he could carry within himself—his experiences, observations, and spiritual identity—rather than physical objects.” So, in this life, I plan to collect honesty, love for God, respect for others, spiritual resilience. These I can “take with me.” These are things I don’t have to leave in a small suitcase by the front door.

It is a liberating thought: only collect what you can take with you. But I really need to stop adding to the collection of stuff that I think is so important. I have too many guitars, t-shirts, and odd parts to things that I don’t have anymore. Seems to me that Walt Whitman would agree with me that our bad habits don’t just disappear when I get to heaven- wherever or whatever that is. I picture myself with too many harps, too many togas, and Saint Peter saying, “Dude, you’re blocking the sidewalk with all this stuff.”

But this is the easy stuff to get rid of. The guitars, t-shirts, togas and harps can be shed in one day of sheer will. Bad habits are another story and can take years before finally we can say, “Whew, glad that one is gone.”

I am not here to suggest how to get rid of a bad habit. That’s another story. But habits can be good or bad, right? And bad habits are like the ocean or Star Trek’s borg and will eat you alive. Darwin in action. Bad habits are like a predator waiting to devour you. I’m afraid of sharks. I should be afraid of bad habits.

I suppose karma is like Darwin’s evolution. I think a good example of karma is to picture yourself standing about 20 yards back from a cliff. Now, run at it as fast as you can. Two yards from the cliff, change your mind and try to stop. That momentum carrying you forward is karma. Momentum can be good, but also not so good. For example, you can have good momentum toward getting healthy. But you can also have momentum toward going off the cliff.

Please know one thing: You will always momentum pushing you somewhere. It’s unavoidable: You always will have momentum. It’s a good thing. When you screw up, your good momentum will continue to push you in the direction you want to go. So, build up that momentum until it is unstoppable.

I want to have momentum, as Whitman might say, toward ‘collecting what I want to take with me.’

Your momentum? Please consider where your momentum is pushing you.

Paramahansa Yogananda, a Hindu swami, once commented, “What happens to you is not important. What matters is how you respond to it.” This has had a profound impact on the last 50 years of my life. It is not enough though to think about this for a moment. It needs to be deeply absorbed. “What happens to you is not important. What matters is how you respond to it.”

Your mental “environment” has a huge effect on your present happiness. But, that momentum also has a huge effect on your future happiness. The more you wallow in misery or stress over a myriad of obstacles laid in your path, the momentum makes it harder to turn off. And you take that momentum with you, as Whitman would put it.

So, I guess it really doesn’t matter if the ocean eats me or not. What matters is how my mind responds to it. Only I get to decide how I respond to circumstances of life and the actions of other people. I will not allow life to control my responses. That is a habit I wish to take with me.

Please consider where your momentum is pushing you.