Belongings.
Sherlock Holmes said that ‘a man’s head is like an attic with only room for so much furniture,’ meaning that, as his head was full of stuff about how to be a great detective, it didn’t have room for the clutter of other thoughts.
In this way, I think he may have been part chicken. Because I’ve noticed chickens are likewise limited in their thinking: Food. Comfort. Complaining. Pecking. Food. More food. Pecking for bugs.
They do occasionally fight, but when they do, it’s ridiculous. There's a lot of posturing, feather ruffling, and squawking. Veronica and Velma had a falling out recently, and when they got into it, it was very Guy Ritchie for about 30 seconds, until Velma stomped off in a huff. Afterwards the other chickens just pottered around, peace restored. Until the next time. In any community, disagreement is natural.
It's taking a bit of time to settle Ripley into the coop. She is terrified of all forms of tussle, so is prone to hysterical outbursts if any other chicken happens to creep up on her. Now, at least she is happy to wander around with the rest of the guys, but if I go out into the backyard, she will still do her very best to fly over the fence and land on my shoulder. Then she snuggles up to my ear, clucking and chatting to me companionably, like I speak chicken.
So I limit the amount of time I’m out there. As much as it's kind of adorable, if I keep taking her around the backyard while she dishes the dirt on the rest of the girls, she will never quite fit in with the other chickens. And what I want most for her is to really belong.
This week though, there was a development. I looked out the window to see Genghis ‘servicing’ her -the less I say about that, the better- but basically it means she’s one of his girls and under his protection. So that is really good.
But then, as soon as Genghis had turned his back, Agatha, in a fit of jealousy, went in to peck Ripley viciously. I yelled out of the window. (Honestly, my neighbors must think I’m mental, or that we have a mental houseguest called Agatha - in which case, both are true.) Anyway, Genghis hearing me chastise Agatha, went off to chastise Agatha himself, and the situation was resolved.
Like I say, disagreement is natural. Terrorizing is not. In any society, there has to be some order of things.
Living in the menagerie that is Tweddley Manor, it's impossible to avoid noticing how all creatures have feelings: Arthur, the chickens, the bees, they all respond to weather and safety and atmosphere. And we’re all a bit off.
Even Grendel, the generally stoic, rescued meat rabbit, had a bit of a tantrum this week. When I ventured to take him out of his hutch, he went straight in for a cuddle, licking my hand and snuggling up. I guess we all need a bit of comforting now and again.
The world feels off kilter. Our little blue planet, rotating in the darkness of an endless universe, feels strangely in pain.
I am no Sherlock Holmes, but the global atmosphere certainly feels off.
Anyway, while avoiding Ripley in the backyard, I decided to free the house of stuff I don’t need, hoping in some ways, it helps also free my mind of stuff I don’t need.
It works along the method of, “Is this mine to fix or take care of? If not, then I will let it go.” I used my old favorite, giving things away on “Buy Nothing.” The only thing better than freeing yourself of stuff you don’t need anymore is seeing people’s thrilled expressions at acquiring the stuff you don’t need anymore.
I used to have a complicated relationship with belongings, in that I used to feel obliged to keep things. Then one day in our last house, I looked around and realised that the vast majority of my furniture was from people who had passed it on, or had indeed themselves passed on. I had found myself the unwitting eternal caretaker of stuff other people had once acquired. So I took some time to consider what I actually wanted, and finally, reluctantly admitting that furniture really doesn't have feelings, let the rest go.
Since then, I've tried to remind myself that it’s OK to have emotions locked into items, but to choose those items wisely. Before my mother went into hospice care, she wrote on the boxes of her jewelry who she wanted what to go to. So I have a gold charm bracelet I won’t likely ever wear, but I would never lose it. It is worth so much more than just the metal it is made of. And besides, I have to keep it, because my name is handwritten on the box.
But stuff is not people. Stuff is what you give to people to let them know they matter. Objects are just adornments.
A few years ago, it dawned on me that due to some unfathomable force, groups of atoms bonded together to make each living creature, and therefore that everyone who breathes on the planet has already achieved a miracle. I liked that thought a lot -and I hadn’t even been drinking.
It’s why I made up Fish and Bear, and yes, we say it’s a storytelling event, but mostly it’s just listening, and doing a bit of speaking when it’s your turn. The whole point is sitting in a room with a group of people who you don’t necessarily know, who don’t look like you or have the same interests as you, and after a couple of hours, recognising that you totally and utterly belong.
Because I wondered what the planet would feel like if we acknowledged that no life was greater or less than another, and that -even though we may not like each other- we had to accept that we each belonged. How much sorrow, self-doubt, and loneliness could be eradicated if people remember that they, like everyone else, were just miraculous clumps of atoms on a little blue planet floating somewhere in an endless Universe, and the purpose of their lives was to explore.
I expected it would change the world quite a lot. Difference would just mean, well, difference, and it’s quite tricky to start a war with another party you accept has the same right to exist as you.
And of course, there would still be crazy fuckers, because in any group of anythings there are always crazy fuckers. But for so many of us who currently look at the state of the world and wonder how and where we belong, we could recognise that those who seek to control us are just a random cluster of crazy fuckers who own more stuff.
I am definitely no Sherlock Holmes, but I do feel of late that my attic has been getting increasingly cluttered with stuff that isn’t mine. Honestly, I reckon I have more than two full filing cabinets just crammed with shock and outrage, and another whole shelving unit brimming over with disgust, and they’re not serving me at all. Not when I would rather fill the space with gratitude for even being here on this planet, and the will to do whatever I can to protect it and all its beauty.
I do not want to be like Ripley, waiting for the next catastrophe. I am part of a flock. A group. A global population. A community.
In any society, disagreement is natural. But terrorizing is not. There has to be an order of things. And yes, there are crazy fuckers, because there are always crazy fuckers.
But this is our little blue planet. Ours. And we belong.
xo
PS: If you click on the heart emoji to like this post, it will help clear some of the metaphorical clutter in the attic of my head. And yes, that could be described as emotional blackmail. But my algorithm has no scruples whatsoever.
Call yourself fancy? Volume 3 of Notes can be yours now.
Available in hardback, paperback, audiobook, and eBook: US, UK, Can, Aus
If you do buy anything, please leave a review on the site as it helps people know that I write in proper sentences… erm sometimes xo
P. P. S: If you enjoy talking/listening/stories/ random facts, come and join me and Mr Tweddle at Fish and Bear every Tuesday. For details and booking, go to Fishandbear.net
