holey socks

Most of the way through the day I suspected that funny feeling was a hole in my sock. I've since confirmed, and am about to take the socks off and toss them in the trash. They have red and white stripes and gingerbread men on them. I used to pull them out purposely and very intentionally on days when I planned to bake Christmas cookies. I even thought about that when I grabbed them this morning. 

Here's the funny thing: I am so looking forward to dropping them into the waste basket in my bedroom. They are one more little instance of disposing of old habits. Old actions and reactions. Old outgrown parts of me that must just go. This is the second pair of socks this week that will go, and the third in a month. Eventually I'll need to get some new socks, but not until I have an opportunity to assess what really should be kept, and what should go. 

More should go than stay. 

I'm sifting quite a bit lately. And, to be honest, it feels damn good. Not just socks and clothes that don't suit me - either because I've 'outgrown' them or because they never really were my style - but other things, too. Things like emotions, reactions, interpretations. Things that are no longer - or really never were - practical. Things that matter to my heart. That's the kicker: I'm sifting through everything I see, hear, and feel to find what matters to my heart. 

Sometimes that hurts. Sometimes it hurts an whole big bunch. But most of the time it feels liberating, awe-inspiring, joy-filled. I have the freedom to look at my decisions with a new lens; a lens of clarity. With a vision of me. 

Only I can determine how important these socks are to me. How necessary they are to the memories I hold close. Only I determine their value. In truth, they are just stuff. And all the stuff, I can let go.