Outhouse

Last night I was speaking with an old friend and as usually we were trying to “out poor” each other. (It’s a Southern thing.) As our conversation continued, I brought up my friends older brother and asked how he was doing. She supposed he was doing well and that in fact he and his family were planning a holiday trip to the Caribbean. This comes as no surprise; I mean he has a really nice job at a major manufacturing plant back home. It’s just that as we talked, I can recall when he and I run around as teenagers with little more than the change in our pockets and mischief on our minds.

  

We both came from single income families; our dad’s both worked at the same stinky paper mill; although he grew up on a beautiful river, at least my home had indoor plumbing. So I don't begrudge my old friend's success, in fact that I’m happy he’s successful. It’s just that after the conversation I had with has little sister I have to wonder; how happy is he really living in that glass house he has built. I don't think of myself as a minimalist in the sense that most see it today. Because for most being a minimalist is a lifestyle choice, while for me it’s a necessity.

I will say it's a way of life that suits me. That's because I've learned stuff is just stuff. So when I can afford myself a luxury it usually ends up getting discarded anyway. I find that I am happiness with the simple things of life like comfortable clothes, listening to music, and creating art through writing. While I do live “in the country” away from most of my family and friends; I must also admit I don't miss the clutter of messy or overwhelming relationships. 

After going through my mental crisis's nearly two decades ago, I discovered real peace doesn't come until you let go. For so long I clung to so many things like processions, family, and even my sanity. But none of these things could relieve me of the pain and torment I felt until I let them go. Still I'm no fool, I understand the peace I feel can be fleeting, if I allow myself to crawl back into that materialistic hole again. All I can say is, I hope that my friend is happy where he is. Because living a lie is a fool's journey that leads to nothing but sadness and pain. So if given the choice, I’d just assume sh*t in an outhouse again.