I got to thinking about this, especially in light of some Taoist practices I've been reading about in Raymond Barnett's excellent Relax, You're Already Home. Barnett talks about a Taoist practice (although it's hardly unique to that discipline) of maintaining a personal altar of items whose presence helps you somehow. In Taoism, you might explain it as items for which the Tao (or chi) flows strongly; Catholics might have a statue of saint, to put them in touch for intercession. Lots of traditions have this idea of deliberately surrounding ourselves with objects that tweak our energy in particular ways, and they also focus on the importance of integrating those "altars" into daily practice.
Here's my thought: aren't bookshelves, fridges, bags, and computers basically the altars of our daily lives? We spend most of our time near them; they nourish, entertain, and teach us. So I wonder about the concept of personal effects as extensions of the spirit.
I shared a story about how, back at Swarthmore, everyone had bookshelves filled with interesting things. The culture seemed to be that the bookshelf was, in some ways, an avatar of the self: we used books to say what we felt was important. I guess we used our bookshelves like precursors of today's Facebook profiles.
I think it's important to point out that, for me at least, the bookshelf really wasn't about "advertising", whether for a mate or anything else. It was an articulation of faith, a personalized creed about what mattered in the world. It was an altar.
So, in thinking about this, I'm interested to see what I'm carrying around with me right now. I'll start with my backpack, since that's my current daily bag.
- Backpack: Lenovo computer backpack. Utterly un-sexy, but pretty functional. Black and dark green. Sometimes I swap it out for my brown leather messenger bag, a standard laptop case, or an internal-frame hiking pack.
- Plastic water bottle. This is, dare I say it, a "repurposed" Gatorade bottle that hasn't held Gatorade for years. A few years ago, when I started lightening my hiking loads, I switched from Nalgene bottles to Gatorade ones--they're about a third of the weight, and they're basically free. I've had several of them bite the dust over the years, so I just get another one, try to make myself drink the Gatorade, and then use the bottle until it dies. So it goes.
- Sunglasses, polarized, wrap-around. Always within arms' reach. Over the last few years, my eyes have gotten really sensitive to sunlight, so I usually have sunglasses, a hat, or both.
- Keys, on a carabiner, looped through a stitched loop on the shoulder strap.
- A pair of homemade poi, made from a pair of skiing socks that I didn't like and, I think, my original pair of Smartwool socks from so many years ago. I got into playing poi last year after I hurt my back, because I found that it was a low-impact exercise that could often make my back muscles quit their spasms. Poi are fun! Now I practice with them in the park before tai chi class.
- A looseleaf notebook (the froo-froo kind that you can fold and mess around with). I bought it for grad school, but I never take notes using it anymore. I use it for... well... anything that requires either paper or protected flat storage. So it has notes for a bunch of trainings I'm working up, some assignments from grad school, some conference proceedings, a sheaf of recipes from Amelia and Jarrod's wedding, along with their menu...
- A printed reference for the 148-posture Yang-style Long Form, which I'm learning in tai chi class. I pull it out when I have a few moments free for reflection, and I visualize myself flowing through the form. I hope it helps.
- Several books, usually individually wrapped in plastic shopping bags. I have an OCD habit about taking care of my books: I want them to stay pristine and museum-quality. For me, it's a respect thing. I'm trying to let myself write in the margins of my grad school textbooks (it's hard!), but mostly I think books should be treated like honored guests. So that's why they get their individual protective bags, in case of rain or other damage. Today's selection of backpack books includes Chip and Dan Heath's fantastic Made To Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die, the slightly-outdated version of Morrison, Ross, & Kemp's Designing Effective Instruction, and Pamela Phillips Oland's The Art of Writing Great Lyrics.
- My Canon SD1000 pocket digital camera, in a cheap case that I think came from Walmart years ago. This camera has been all over the place with me, and it's bombproof. It shoots happily at -35 F when I'm standing on top of mountains, and it's small and light. The case also carries a disused USB card reader that an ex-girlfriend gave me and a sheet of paper from my grandpa Byron (a librarian) describing a book he thought I'd like. (I did). I keep the paper because I like being reminded of him; I have no idea why I keep the card reader.
- My new Kodak Zi8 video camera, which I bought for grad school since I'm going to be developing video training. Along with this, a cheap case and a Joby Gorillapod tripod. These are all new, so they don't have stories yet.
- A Kestrel 4500 Pocket Weather Tracker, which is a totally badass anemometer/data logger/thermometer/barometer/altimeter/psychrometer/compass/etc. I reviewed it for 4alloutdoors.org, which is an outdoors site run by my friend Leesa. We review gear, write about doing stuff outdoors, and have a good time. I've used it on mountains, at gigs, in airports, and lots of other places.You can even see me talking about it, if you like!
- Travel charger for my CrackBerry.
- Extension cord. You wouldn't believe how often an extension cord comes in handy.
- An iPod Touch that I got as a credit card reward from my bank. It has lots of Scottish, Irish, Spanish, jazz, and folk music on it, as well as a fair bit of classical. It also holds most of the recordings I've been doing of the songs I'm writing. Its USB cable rides with it, as does a pair of pretty blue headphones. They're kept safe inside a soft sunglasses case from Mountain Equipment Coop--but I didn't buy it. I found the case, abandoned, on the summit of Giant Peak this January, which was the last time I was able to climb a mountain (until last week!) thanks to my busted knee.
- An assortment of quotidian gel pens in different colors.
- A mechanical pencil that's been to gigs in California, New Hampshire, and lots of places in between. I vastly prefer mechanical pencils over wooden ones, perhaps because I value precision of line.
- A pair of Lamy fountain pens, both fitted with screw-piston converters to use my favorite bottled inks. One is a Vista Demonstrator model, which means that it's made of clear plastic so you can see its insides and envision how it works. Fountain pens are fascinating objects of scientific innovation, actually! The ink feeds are impressive. The Vista has a fine standard nib on it, and I use it for most business writing. The other is a black Lamy Joy, which is their italic calligraphy fountain pen. I fitted it with a 1.0 mm square-cut nib, and I use it for addressing letters, writing call logs (sometimes), and feeling whimsical. I got into fountain pens because regular disposable pens really hurt my hands (from the requisite pressure), but as time went by, I became uncomfortable with the amount of plastic waste that comes from disposable pens. So I use (relatively inexpensive) fountain pens and bottled ink. The ink colors are glorious, and the pens last for years.
How does that knowledge play against other things you've noticed about me? What else did you learn from hearing about my personal backpack altar? Does any of this resonate for you? Maybe you can tell me why I'm drawn to the word "resonate" lately, and seem to use it in lots of different contexts.
What do you carry?
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