Following the Law of Entropy

Sorting, culling, packing and storing....

It's amazing what you can accumulate over time, when you have the space.
I am in the process of packing up my personal effects for storage, as I ready my house for my tenant. I've been in my house for 7 years. I moved from a one bedroom apartment to a 3+1 bedroom house with a double detached garage. In accordance with the Law of Entropy, it didn't take long for my belongings to expand. As I sort and cull through the contents of my various cupboards, drawers, and hidden corners, I reflect on my curious collections. Like corks. I honestly didn't know I collected corks. Did I keep them because they represented sacred or celebratory moments shared with loved ones ? It's safe to say that those that didn't spark a sentimental attachment are now in the recycling bag. And toiletries. I admit, this is a long standing addiction of mine. It started when Michelle Williams, my friend from across the street, gave me a bar of soap for my 5th birthday. It was pink, and decorated with netting and pins to look like a fish. When I was a child, I even had my own drawer in the family bathroom, just for soap. Some bars were just too sacred to use (those from special friends), and because they never expired, kept their places of honour. When I grew up, this addiction grew to include to bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion from hotels, just the right size for trips to the swimming pool or to pack for future trips (where I would, inevitably, accumulate even more). Last year, I placed myself under a strict embargo from future purchases of toiletries until I made a dent in my collection. This has been working, and I recently had an opportunity to donate a sizable portion of my loot to a women's shelter, but I still have enough set aside in storage to keep me smelling fresh when I return home from Botswana. I won't even get into my collection of books. Although I rarely read a book more than once, I have a hard time getting rid of them -- especially those that took me to exotic times and places, and fed my curiosity and imagination. I've gotten better at not accumulating more books by taking advantage of my local library. My books are staying, for the benefit of my tenant (if he is so inclined to read any), and because I don't want to pack them up. I stopped collecting souvenirs and artwork from my travels, once my curio cabinets and walls became full, and I have given myself instructions not to acquire more in Botswana, with the following exceptions: I know and want to support the artist; it would make a nice gift for someone special; or, it is a gift from someone special. And, if I happen to share a nice bottle of South African wine with someone, I'll be sure to properly lable the cork.

Rue Sansregret

It was mid-November, and I was walking back to the Gîte (Bed and Breakfast) from the metro station in East Montreal. It was late and dark, and because I was in an unfamiliar place, my wits were extra sharp.

I was in Montreal for pre-orientation training through WUSC/Uniterra for a posting I was offered in Botswana. I had been wrestling with the decision to uproot my life of ease and comfort, and the routine and responsibilities that come with it, to explore the unknown.

I thought I’d let the “universe” know I was open to signs pointing to the course of action I should take. My senses honed in on sounds of footsteps running up the street, sirens echoing in the distance, and the odd shifts in light from the residential walk-ups.

About 10 minutes into my walk, a car pulled up beside me. It stopped, the driver’s door opened, and a box was placed on the top of the car. A mangy figure with wild hair and exaggerated features, barely discernable in the dark, then popped up beside the box. Without stopping, I slowed my pace and tried to focus in on this somewhat alarming character. “Bonne soirée, Madame !”, he said. “Bonsoir, Monsieur”, I replied, with a giggle, realizing that he was not a manacing being, but a clown, returning home from a gig.

Waving good-bye, I carried on a few steps, then noticed an oddly placed street sign at the entrance of a dark alley. I peered down the alley, lined with graffiti painted walls and garbage bins, with no apparent end in sight, and then up at the sign, which read “Rue Sansregret”.

When I asked the universe for a sign, I didn’t expect it to take me quite so literally.

What could I learn from this experience ? You help me decide:

a) that if you choose to travel down an unknown path, you should do so fully committed and without regret.
b) that what may seem strange and scary at first encounter, could, upon closer inspection, be something fairly harmless.
c) that what you choose to see as signs, and how you choose to intrepret them, are true indications of your inner desires.
d) all of the above.
e) other.