Friday Philosophy: Traveling Light

I have traveled light through this world.  I intend to depart it lightly as well.

I have few things.

What stuff would that be?  And who of my family do people imagine are going to fight over what I have?  Other than my books, my clothes and my record collection…which fits in an orange crate…all my “stuff” fits in the shelves and drawers of one desk (or, as has been done before, the back seat of the car I used to have, including the records).

And most of the stuff I have has no intrinsic value.  Bits of blown glass, a few shells, a couple of rocks, some carved wood, a couple of kaleidoscopes…

I’ve gone through my life with few things.  What more do I need than what I need to get me through the day?  This day.  Maybe tomorrow.  Next month seems a world away.  

I have the words that I have read in my head if I need them.  Elephantinely, I never forget.  But I have some of those books, to focus that memory if I want.

I used to be the co-owner of a complete collection of matching Agatha Christie writings.  After the divorce, it became a burden and was sold off to finance my attempted move to Seattle.  So was everything else that I owned.  Down to the point that, except for those books, which I mailed book rate, everything I possessed, from the clothes on my back, through my record collection and stereo, and arriving at a few trinkets, fit in my car.

I possessed the car as an aid to combating loneliness.  I was not a driver  until after I transitioned.  When my ex decided she didn’t want to drive me to my therapist in Little Rock, I had to rely on friends to drive me there and bring me back.  Friends were few.  And friends weren’t going to take me to Dallas to meet friends from my online lesbian community.  So I bought a car, accumulating more debt than I ever could have imagined before.

Here we are almost 13 years later and I finally have gotten rid of that car.  I lived the hell out of that car.

It’s also almost 14 years since I paid for my surgery.  Ten grand.  Try to get that if you have never usually even had $1000 at any one time.  And good luck trying to borrow money being a transwoman in Arkansas, no matter how long you’ve been teaching at the local university.  Or, like any woman recently divorced in that state, I had no independent credit history.

Fortunately, a dumb-ass credit card company sent me a guaranteed credit card because they thought I was a safe bet.  Talk about stupid.  I still have that card.  AT & T paid for 20% of my surgery.  Stupidly, they also raised my limit because of my increased debt, so could use that card to borrow money to pay off my AT & T bill every month when I was in Seattle.

I raised the other 80% of the cost myself.  Who needs to eat?  Rent was cheap.  I’d learned to be homeless in the Haight and I could learn to live on next to nothing again.  So I did.  When one needs something, one does what is necessary in order to get it.  Not “wants”…”needs.”  One cuts out the “wants.”

Don’t even get me started about insurance companies who won’t pay for needed treatment.  

I paid off all that debt after I returned to Conway.  I found a better place to live…so that I could have room to help other people in need.  I bought a big water bed.  It no longer is a water bed and is slowly disintegrating, but I still own it.  I don’t need it, but it serves a purpose.  A few chairs, a futon, a television.

And I own a computer now.  The one I had before this ran Windows 95.  Currently I have a Compaq Presario, running at 1.53 GHz, but with only 480 MB memory and 55.8 GB hard drive.  It constantly tells me that it could operate faster if it were a better computer.  And its color is off, leading to frequent surprises about what my art really looks like.

But I don’t currently need something better, so I haven’t gotten it.  I’m getting a new computer chair that will be better for my back that is supposed to arrive on Tuesday.  It’s a birthday present from Debbie.  I insist she get one for herself as well and also that I pay for them…because I also need Debbie to be happy.

Debbie has more stuff than I.  She was closer to her family and has control of more of the family memorabilia.  Most of the stuff we moved here from Conway belong to Debbie or Alicia.  I look around the room I’m in and I see my trinkets confined to the computer desk I got for Xmas one year.  It’s made of pressed wood and came from Staples.  One of the “assemble it yourself” deals.  It tilts a bit.

I have always rented.  I suppose I’m still eligible for the home loan I was assured of getting when I served in the military.  But I’ve lost track of that and have never really found the need to own a dwelling.  And I can’t currently prove that I served in the military, since someone once stole the briefcase that contained my discharge papers.  And my presidential commendation.  I haven’t needed to replace those things.

Debbie owns a condo in Los Angeles with her brother.  They inherited it from their mother.

One thing I’ve regained is debt, from moving here and working here even though we can’t afford it really.  And from an eye surgery that was required when I wasn’t insured.

One thing I do have is pounds upon pounds of portable storage, containing the words I have written.  Document everything, I was counseled.  I have.  So I also have boxes of printed memorabilia, some which has never been transcribed and some that are hard copies of the chapters of a manuscript or two yet to come.  All they require is someone who wants to print them.

Ah, but nobody knows it exists?  Sure they do.  At least some do.  They are the words I leave as footsteps as I travel lightly through this life.  We place hope in the butterfly effect.  What else do we have?  What else do we need?

Searching for Fertile Ground Leaving Nothing but Footsteps I tread lightly though life Soft footsteps shaped like words sown like apple seeds along the years Applying color like a butterfly’s wings to attract the prey Don’t be concerned I will not harm you I need only what allows the next moment and the hope that ideas germinate after I have passed I have tread lightly through life and intend to leave it lightly as well And maybe just a little better for my having been here –Robyn Elaine Serven –April 11, 2008