only that which is useful needs a place in my life
Sitting in the back of my closet is a large ashiko hand drum that was purchased at a music festival that took place several years ago. On that weekend, the sway and swagger of music captivated me and the swell of unique sounds transported me. It was wonderful to watch the hundreds of musicians who played and be a part of the massive festival audience who listened.
And, on top of that, ‘IT’ happened! A signal! An elemental rhythmic pulse drew me away from the main stage where I was drawn instead to the outlying community of drummers under a mighty maple tree and instantly felt myself wanting to join in — to learn and make deep connections with others through that rhythm. I was drunk in the moment and yes — I bought a drum. It was a wonderfully hopeful thing — I’m going to learn how to drum — but, the practical side of it was a mountain — or perhaps an iceberg. I learned a lot from that investment.
Taking on any new activity is a commitment — a relationship — that you must be willing to engage in for an extended period of time — even just to understand the basics. Then, there are the human relationships that need to be maintained, or developed, with those who teach, practice or perform.
Finally, I grasped that the money I spent on the drum was merely a down-payment for the rest of that world — learning, joining, travelling, repairing, storing, upgrading, performing….
I thought I needed this drum but now I realize that I don’t. I did not find the bond that I thought I would. Instead, it sits there as a reminder of my excesses and of things that belonged to a moment that is now past. So, after many attempts to join in and to create meaningful musical relationships, the drum languishes alone (the head had to be replaced from lack of use rather than overuse).
It hasn’t called me to learn or to deepen my world experience or to express myself through its magical rhythm.
I view it as a failure of my ability to know my limits. I realized that to learn how to drum, I would have to forgo something else that I hold dear in my life. Learning something new, like taking up a sport, or delving into a new hobby, requires a great deal of energy and usually means that something else has to give-way for it to happen.
So, back to the title of this, to all the things I thought I needed — I now realize that I can no longer fill my closet with items for a future that may never happen. I wanted it and didn’t think about the commitment or responsibility that the purchase demanded.
I’m not alone in my toy box of excess in the house, but I still carry forward the sad weight of this decision.
I can no longer accumulate new things without acknowledging that each item takes up — perhaps unnecessarily — space in my world. And I know now that only that which is useful needs a place in my life. Thank you COVID for this lesson.
I often think of the millions of homes where people are sifting through material items left behind and I realize how difficult this is for others to endure.
Before the world took its great ‘pause’, the idea of time was not nearly as finite as it seems now. Drumming was a fantastic possibility. But now, because I’m more conscious of my interactions and activities, I know that everything physical thing that I acquire, displaces something else and forces energy in a new direction. So, I risk becoming unfocussed about where I was headed — or worse — distracted by the glamour of the moment!
Staying present and growing in fewer, deeper ways seems to be more useful now, post-pandemic.
Perhaps the whole thing about regretful purchases is about the fear of missing out — FOMO — or maybe what I see as the opposite …. FOMP — Fear of Missing the Point!! That after working towards learning the intricacies of drumming, in this case, and participating in the community, that I don’t get it and it does not feed my soul as I hoped it would.
I understand that, like most things, the better you are at something, the more you like it. But, there have been many times in my life where the challenge either falls away, becomes over-involved, a great time-sucker or worse — I find out that I’m terrible at it! What then? Well, then I admit my failure and place an ad on Kijiji.
So, like many of us, I have a trove of things that are pushed aside into a dark corner of my closet for ‘the future’ — a thing that no longer seems as certain as it once did. And, until the time comes when my foolish purchase rises up and enraptures me again (or I can sell it), this drum sits waiting in pristine condition.
PS. I have a drum for sale if you’re looking for one! DM me!!
