The title is something on which my friend J agreed with me regarding the below thoughts. They’re originally my comment on J’s blog post, Parts of a whole (revisited), and some afterthoughts as I’ve been thinking about this ever since.
My journals are somewhere in a box behind all sort of things. And, in the lack of a place to burn them (no real yard), they’ll likely stay there until I have my own little house with a garden where I can build a fire.
Danielle LaPorte’s post prompted the same feelings in me – that of “Yes” and that which, turns out, is why I haven’t been journaling since then. The vastness of the past is something I like, while investing in the future is what “pays off” on the long run. There can sometime be a magic to old Dear Diary. But this is not the time.
What I do wonder when I’ll throw away or burn, are photographs. I’ve thrown away photos from a relationship before. I haven’t regretted it.
And from another one that ended, I’ve deleted blog comments. I kind of regret that latter.
But I haven’t deleted photos. Not the digital ones tucked away in a myriad of numbered folders on my laptop, nor print versions. I’ve gathered the prints into an album. It sits on a shelf. Not in plain view for everyone’s eyes, but not particularly hidden either. I agree that a physical act of release can be a good thing, in many situations.
However, right now, I can’t bare the thought of throwing these photographs away. I probably never will burn them, either. And it’s taking a while to figure out why.
All I can think of at the moment is: it might be because I’m content. I’m happy with what was, and all the good in that relationship. So, for now at least, they’re “safe” from a dramatic final farewell.
PS: She did it. J has burnt her journals meanwhile, and I can tell you one more thing for certain – I surely will burn mine when I get a chance.