What’s in Storage?

April 2022

A year ago I loaded a small storage unit with plastic packing containers, numerous taped boxes, furniture, a Christmas tree, hiking poles and a mattress; belongings salvaged from a home I had left, while I transitioned to a new life. I visited that storage unit today on a quest to find some important paperwork, unsure what feelings would immerse.

As I gently lifted and shifted each container and box while I searched for what I needed, I felt excited. What had averted the mini-skip? My heart smiled. My children’s cherished stuffed toys and teddy bears, their school photos, their drawings and paintings; their innocence. And what was in this other box? Hand crafted and painted ceramics and art works; irreplaceable and gifted to me. And in this other box? My cake pans! My mum is such a wonderful baker. My memories of her moist cakes and my sister and I begging her to let us lick the bowl. (My mum had this irritable habit of scraping the bowl clean so every bit would fill the cake tin). And what was in this other container? My treasured books and travel journals. Poetry, prose, non-fiction, adventure. And in another; love letters from significant relationships, tenderly collated with ribbons and tissue paper.

I was internally aligned with the mess I created on the floor and concretely reminded of what mattered to me, how I had painstakingly made decision after decision last year, what to give away to friends and family, what to offer those in need, what was unusable, what to keep, all tangible today and resonating succinctly in my body.

We store things, memories, emotions and narratives, some tucked away neatly, compartmentalised, waiting patiently for when we are ready to unravel their origins, others reticent with the inner work completed, sitting peacefully within us.

So, what’s in my storage? My values. Love. Love of learning. Adventure. And the accompanying feeling? Joy.

What’s in your’s and are you seeking a companion to help you to realign with your values? I’m here, ready and willing.

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Memo to the Parents of Gen Z

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Teachers and Butterfly Hugs