95/100 Days of I Believe

I believe you get back what you give out, that things are meant to be used and enjoyed and when we hold onto things for one-day-just-in-case they tend to go stale, and us around them.

I believe that hoarding your sticker collection or the scotch tape, books, handbags, your French fries or the last of the strawberries makes for less in our lives, not more. that holding on tight takes energy, while sharing makes life sweeter, and makes space for more.

The sticker collection is an example near and dear to my heart, because to this day I have a hard time using up those stickers that come on perforated sheets from a roll at the old fashioned pharmacy next to the bank. they're so pretty and pleasing and I want to save them for just the right time except what is the right time, exactly, for which to save them? If I were to keep the stickers, piled in a box on my desk (as I have been known to do) saving them for some imaginary right time, they would be taking up space in my life, gathering dust, bringing me no joy - in fact, bringing me the opposite of joy as I hold on tight and wonder, is this the right time? - and bringing no joy or use to anyone anywhere. Whereas, if I stick those stickers to a letter I send to my child at summer camp or to my niece, or on the envelope when I pay the electric bill, for heaven’s sake - I get the pleasure of using this tiny treasure, someone else gets the pleasure of receiving it, and I have made space for more treats, treasures, joy to come into my life.

Somehow, holding on to the stickers (thank you for bearing with me as I wring every last drop out of this metaphor) it is as though I am anticipating that there won't ever be more stickers or better sticker or enough stickers - or tote bags or strawberries or old sweatshirts or socks or whatever it is - that this is as good as it gets and I'd better hold on for dear life for fear of losing it all. In truth, every bit of it is temporary, and we ought to enjoy it while we can.

So stick those stickers on the envelope - on any envelope, or on all of them - offer a neighbor the last of the strawberries, give the old handbag to a friend. Let the things do their job of being useful, take pleasure in what is available in this moment, and trust in the universe that you get back what you give out. I believe it.