A genuinely free spirit.

Stuff. I have stuff. Far too much stuff. Possessions. Really, it's junk. Stuff that I don't need. I was reminded of that today. When I went to an auction. Of stuff. Collected by a friend. Howard. A district court judge. He died a year ago. Didn't know it. Until I learned of the auction. Assumed then that Howard had died. Because there was no other way he'd sell all his stuff. The auction is expected to last three days. So much stuff. Didn't know he had so much stuff. Looked like some stuff went back generations. Stuff acquired by his grandparents and great grandparents. Stuff handed down to children and grandchildren. But now, strangers were buying the stuff. Talked to a lady who knew him. Probably a relative. 'Howard would have enjoyed seeing people buying his things,' she said. I thought about it. Yes, that was part of his enjoyment of life. The stuff reminded me of my friend. Yes, the stuff was part of Howard. Stuff that had meaning. Perhaps infused with Howard's spirit. Lasting. Lasting. Lasting. If not forever. For long after death. But my stuff really isn't all that meaningful. My spirit, even before I die, must be free of stuff. Only then will I be a genuinely free spirit.   --Jim Broede