209 The Contents of My Purse

There are two tubes of Burt’s Bees lip stuff. Why two? The first is a minty flavor that sometimes burns, especially with chemo. The second jumped in, mild, like coconut. I could toss the mint one, but it seems wasteful, so I use it occasionally.

The contents of a purse reflect the contents of a life.  I don’t know if that is true, but much like a conversation we were having about dog choices, what dog you own, there has to be something that is (maybe less) reflective about what a person carries with them at all times.

I want to be straight to the point in life.  My purse reflects that.  I carry a cell phone, if I remember it.  I do not have phone attachment, and ignore it by chance when I am not ignoring it intentionally.  

I actually carry checks.  That could go.  I can’t remember the last time I wrote a check for anything other than a bill.  OK, so I’m booting those out as archaic remnants.  Now I will have to look around me.  I need to open my eyes to items that are here just because I haven’t taken the time to oust them.

I have cards, not many.  Cash.  Keys, no extras, house and car.  

There are two tubes of Burt’s Bees lip stuff.  Why two?  The first is a minty flavor that sometimes burns, especially with chemo.  The second jumped in, mild, like coconut.  I could toss the mint one, but it seems wasteful, so I use it occasionally.

There are two tubes of Burt’s Bees lip stuff

I carry information.  I have a list of phone numbers for when the cell phone is missing or dead.  There are little notes, information I might forget yet need, like gate codes or coffee flavors (other’s coffee flavors).

Usually, a pen or two can be found.  Useful.

I might have a list or two of things I’m collecting, grocery items or Christmas stuff.  And there are coupons, old fashioned ones, the things Fred Meyer sends through direct targeting.  

If I understand correctly, that will end in 2021 when they go fully virtual.  They might lose me to that.  I would have to learn something new about my phone.  I would have to think it was worth learning, and it probably isn’t.

And lastly, and most tellingly, a few masks live in the center pocket.  One is decorative, and almost never useful for me.  I also have two knock off versions of the N95, the KN95. Makes me laugh.  But I carry a brand new one and one that I have been using recently.  Those three masks wave flags of my personal presentation to the world.  My less safe, artistic self is riding along, but rarely seen publicly, too risky.  I have a back up plan, almost always, yes.  And I choose the safest alternative available for addressing the viruses of my life. 

And that, in a nutshell, does describe a form of me. Intentional, practical, minimal.  My purse negates the wild side.  Maybe that is a part where the world must look more deeply.   The wild side lives within, inside the realm of art, of creation, of Spirit.  Maybe there will be a shift.  Maybe it is happening now.  The wild side is trading places within us.  We will wake up, and surprise ourselves.  Maybe. 

Author: Michele Plumb Stowell

Michele Stowell was a teacher, a hand holder, and encouraging voice. Born an early Gen Xer, she has lived in Western Washington for the duration. Her children, two spectacular genetic daughters and an uncountable number of marvelous scout and school sons and daughters, shine as her biggest impact and her greatest blessing. Just before her 54th birthday, Michele was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Her writing and art work are expressions of the drama and the joy of living earth bound. On October 24, 2021, Michele was released from her physical body, transported to continue her work on other realms.

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