I have boxes upon boxes filled with books, binders, and notepads. They no longer seem to have a place in my life. Yet, I struggle immensely with even the thought of getting rid of them... as if, by doing so, it would somehow negate the knowledge and lessons I acquired through them.
One of the professors at my Alma Mater, University of Dallas (UD), said that the purpose of the school's intense Core Curriculum is to learn from many of the great thinkers, and then to formulate our own worldview. The UD website states that:
The Core is an opportunity to inquire into the fundamental aspects of being and our relationship with God, nature and our fellow human beings. The Core curriculum embodies the University of Dallas’ dedication to the pursuit of wisdom, truth and virtue as the proper and primary ends of education.I feel like I've learned from every book, article, and class I've encountered. I may not have enjoyed or taken something from each one to add to my worldview, but each one taught me something. And, in that, it's difficult to dispose of them.
There's an added piece of the puzzle, though.
I envisioned a life where I would be a professor. I would conduct research, write papers and books, and teach students. I would be referring back to these books, and possibly to some of my notes (if only just to see how my perspective might have shifted over time). They would serve an important role in my life.
But, since my car accident (7 years ago!), a lot has changed. Many of these books have remained in boxes that entire time, while others have only been moved from boxes to bookshelves and back to boxes.
For the time that they were on the bookshelves, I would sometimes feel like they were a visual (and painful) reminder of how much in my life had changed. I haven't been able to read and write like prior to the accident. I felt like I had lost the ability to be a scholar, and that broke my heart.
I was cleaning one of our bedrooms yesterday... the one with half of the closet full of those many boxes of books, binders, and notepads. I felt my heart start to pound quickly in my chest, but I didn't have a panic attack. I'm taking that as a sign that it's time to try to deal with the boxes and the related emotions that will surface.
I'm not sure how to best face all of this, but I think it's time. I'm not going to just dump everything out. I'm going to go through the boxes (when hubby is here to help me safely move them from their resting place): carefully considering what to keep and what not to, thanking each of them for their service and place in my life, and then either donate, sell, or recycle.
I know that this is going to take some time, but it's time.
