Tchotchkes

I apologize to the college friend to whom I gave two life-sized, carved, wooden geese as a wedding present.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

Tchotchkes. Gimcracks. Doodads. Baubles. Gee Gaws. Knick Knacks. Dust Collectors.

Utterly useless. Oftentimes, ugly and cheap.

(I thought the geese were nice, though.)

 We all end up with such things, often for decades.

For some reason, they can be hard to get rid of.

These photos were taken by my daughter at a thrift store. The people who donated these … things … couldn’t bear to just throw them in the trash. They felt like someone else might … want? need? collect? … them.

I watch those shows, American Pickers and Storage Wars and even the one that started it all, on television at least, Antiques Roadshow, and when they quote some tantalizing price that some “collector” somewhere might pay, I think, “Yeah, show me that collector, right here, right now, with cash in hand, or I am throwing it out.”

Marie Kondo said something in her first book that stuck with me: When (I am paraphrasing here) you are contemplating something someone gave you as a gift but you don’t want, realize that it has served its purpose: that moment, when they gave it to you, a symbol that they had been thinking of you. Marie Kondo would have you thank the thing – and then throw it out!

Note: For anything that might be useful or desirable to someone, I do post it to give away on Nextdoor (and get anywhere from two to a bazillion responses; so, obviously, other people feel differently than me) or I donate it to Salvation Army.

So, my old friend, on whom I poxed those geese: If you haven’t already, please feel free to let them go.

“The Glass is Already Broken”

I have a new favorite saying.

A wonderful commenter, Suzanna from Oregon, explained it recently on "Motherlode," the parenting blog of the New York Times.

I also found the story of it recounted, by author Mark Epstein, who was there, in his book, Thoughts Without A Thinker. (I love Google.)

Basically, Ajahn Chah, a famous Buddhist monk, whom Epstein visited in Thailand with a group, showed them his drinking glass. He told them he loved that glass, it was so pretty, and when he tapped it, it made a lovely sound, but, he explained, “The glass is already broken.” He went onto explain that it was inevitable that, someday, that glass would break. There is no way that it would last forever. Maybe he would knock it over with his sleeve or maybe it would fall off its shelf, but it would shatter and be gone.

Rather than spend effort trying to prevent the inevitable, twisting himself up with worry, maybe being grumpy to other people, maybe even packing the glass away in storage where he wouldn’t be able to use it or even see it, he chose to enjoy the glass now, while he had it, and not worry that it would someday be gone.

Cool.