Impossible to list all our possessions, so this is just a sampling. Even if I didn't have "trauma brain," it would be impossible to recall everything on the property!

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But first, a few words from Jim.

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Stepping into the Void

 

While I know that loss is an inevitable part of Life, it is always a shock when it happens to me. I’ve lost dogs to speeding vehicles, wallets and cash to pickpockets, books and other prized items to simply putting them down and forgetting to pick them up when I left. Objects, I’ve found, need a proper place and always need to be in that proper place. But what if one loses that proper place? That is the theme of what I’m saying here.

 

As a person who lived with the great uncertainty of never knowing who physically I could trust around me being there, I, from an early age, placed my trust in objects to be my anchors to the world around me. I began to collect things that I valued in order to feel a sense of security. They didn’t have to be extremely valuable. But they did have to have some quality to draw me to them. Old coins. Rare books. Hard-to-find original vinyl. Neat comic books. Whole complete years of sports magazines. Odd and unique toys. VHS Tapes. Photographs and musical instruments. A handmade flintlock rifle. The list goes on and on. Things that made me feel good about myself and that greatly interested me. I would look at them. I would memorize them. I would enjoy playing or using them. And over time I grew to have a near photographic memory of them. I kept them stored in safe places and made sure no harm ever came to them. For decades I moved these collections around the country and usually kept them at home where I felt they would last best. 

 

On August 9, 2020, the Echo Mountain Wildfire moved a path of flame through our section of Highland Road in Otis. In just a few hours, nearly everything I had collected over a fifty-year period was reduced to ashes with very, very little left. When I first saw the results of the destruction, I felt as if I was entering a deep, dark void. A tapestry of physical objects that gave my life volume and dimension was gone. And many of the things were clearly never to be seen ever again on Earth. As a Buddhist, I tried to comfort myself with the thought of it all being a mandala. Something created that can only achieve true value through its total ruin. Yet, the more I thought of the loss, the more my heart cried out to the valued objects. It was as if I had to watch a museum burn to the ground without any way to make any of the objects whole again. Or get anyone to acknowledge that these pieces ever existed in the first place. Then I was reminded of what a work acquaintance once told me about the role of static philosophy and one’s personal values, “Don’t let your Karma run over your Dogma”. And I felt the loss of my belongings and prized items just that much more. 

 

So, now, I live with the death as well as the memory of what I lost in that fire. I think about something I lost that day nearly every day as I go about my business of trying to enjoy whatever I seem to come across in my current life. I really have no other choice.