Belongings have no worth.

Yes, okay, shopping is a thing of real value.  We go to search for things we need – or perceive that we need – to fill our bellies, keep us warm, to sit on and wear.

But what do we keep afterward?

The trappings of needs, behaviors, tastes and cravings, failures and success.  The trail of our hands along the walls of life, collecting gifts and hand-me-downs covered in memories and desires.

The cash value of jewelry, art, property, warrantees and vacations.

The trail of footsteps in our very real sand of life might fill with water, provide homes for crabs and expose food for the birds.  They might symbolize trial and tribulation, or exhalted frollicking and play.

Our path of creation that builds our life can come coated in chocolate and gold leaf or be built out of rough-hewn wood carved out of materials found among life’s refuse.

But ultimately, real life is the thing that dances between the footsteps.

It is not the creation, whether golden or rotting, but the act of creating.

Our pores will still show, and our muscles might bulge or sag, but the real moment of living will be the person whose body moves through challenges, highs and lows, and walks from one into the next.

It is not the color, but the light itself.

We are the doing.

When we finally let go of this shell, what will we have?

Well, I mean, honestly – we won’t have anything.

But imagine this.  What if every pair of chocolate colored shoes, every perfect recliner, every colorful mandala and favorite pair of gloves you own could ultimately be handed off to someone who had enjoyed your life, and would benefit from the use of the things that made your life full?  What if, instead of a copious pile of possessions and goals accomplished or acquired that must be divvied out by some hapless beloved relative who we must in turn take advantage of after death – what if, instead of that, we could hand off a pair of gloves to each friend?  What if we had so many loved ones that each item we have loved could find a new, happily ever after home?  Where it would sprout new memories of us, to live on into the future?

It would carry our existence forward, forever.

Belongings are meaningless.

Belonging is everything.

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