Unpacking

As I stepped into retirement, a friend sent me an email with these lines from T.S. Eliot’s poem “Ash Wednesday.”
Teach us to care and not to care.
Teach us to sit still.
While I still have much to learn about the second line, it is the first line I have found myself thinking about. And, as is often the case for me, I think in lingering questions rather than definitive statements.

Today, what am I going to care about?
Care enough about to do something with or about?
Care enough to move beyond lip service to real service?

Today, what am I not going to care about?
Intentionally not care about?
Because, in the end, it doesn’t matter.
Or, is less important today than yesterday.
What am I not going to care about so I have the time and energy and vision to care?

The figuring out process I am going through is similar to what I experienced this morning as we unpacked more boxes. Even though everything was moved, not everything can be kept. We opened the next box filled with treasures from some part and time of our lives. Each one wrapped in layers and layers of paper. One at a time each is lifted out. Unwrapped to see what it is. Then the hard part. Stay or go. Because of space only a certain number of things can stay. Less than will have to go. All are important, but which matter the most?

Part of the task before me is to unwrap my life.
And, to hold each part for a moment.
And, then to decide.

Teach us to care and not to care.