During the summertime our neighborhood has large dumpsters dropped in a line on the street. Part of a community clean up the dumpsters are filled by the end of the day. Mattresses, shrubbery, shoes, broken toys, couches, there is no end to what goes in. Over coffee I watch two men launch an old washing machine inside only hours later to see a scrapper pull it back out and load it into his truck. Being an avid recycler, this makes me smile.

There is something to be said about what we throw out in our lives. Most things come shiny, new, and relevant only to discolor, age, and no longer satisfy. Some things we discard are no longer welcome after the experience. This is perhaps a lover or a friend. Maybe this is an old book with torn edges you never liked the ending of. Still all things have worth when we find the meaning in them. The cycle of transitions is something to cherish. The running shoes I threw out were well past their prime, I kept with me endless hours of contemplation, sweat, endurance, and accomplishment. The lover long gone left with me much needed silence and a desire to see the ocean again. Save the transitions, keep them sacred they are what add up to equal all that is you.



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