15 September 2011

Into The Styptic

It is a curiosity of my existence that in my medicine cabinet I have a half-stick of a styptic pencil.  The ordinary kind one might find in the average drug store or pharmacy.  It has been useful over the years, being a product that certainly lived up to its announced purpose: to stop bleeding from minor nicks and scrapes.  I rarely use it anymore, having switched to an electric razor many years ago.  What makes this remnant curious is that I have had the thing for about twenty-five years.  Twenty-five years is over half my life.

Who holds on to such a thing, for so long?  What am I clinging to that makes me keep it?

That pencil was purchased at the drug store on the main street in the downtown of the small town where I went to college.  I still remember the day I bought, although I cannot tell you why that was significant.

My head is full of such things.  Good thing my head is big, I wish it weren't so damn heavy sometimes.

I thought about that pencil tonight as I ruminated on a swirl of personal issues, things about my past, my present, my future.  The chalk-white stub a totem for the spirits of memory.  I see it there in the cabinet and it makes me wonder what I will stanch the flood of thoughts and memories that have clustered around me.

There is some anxiety, there is some bliss.  I put the pencil back in the cabinet and wonder at the things I can let go, so that I may have room inside to embrace that which I want to welcome into my life.

1 comment:

  1. 25 years is quite an achievement..... I'm kind of impressed that it's remained that long, although obsolete.

    I have a few things that I can't yet throw out, though I've been toying with the idea of it.


"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."

-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

Tell me what is in your heart...