A soft music played from my radio as I began the tedious exercise to de-clutter my room of excess baggage. The song was a flashback in time:
“Remember the time…” With a wistful smile, I muttered his name, Michael Jackson! At that instant, a nostalgic feeling swept over me. And Marcus Tullius Cicero was right when he stated:
“The life given to us by nature is short, but the memory of a well-spent life is eternal”.
I increased the volume as I listened to the melodious lyrics that wafted from the black speaker mounted in a corner of my room. The song reminded me of that time when we were our own best friends. Halfway up on the white wall, is my old time guide, a present I bought for myself during one of the crazy sales bazaars. The beautiful song which the late music icon blessed the world with, again, took me down memory lane, and I laughed at the ever evolving nature of life. The clock’s usual tick tock rhythm reminded me of the passage of time. It dawned on me that yesterday was gone to its place in history.
Now, to the tasks before me: the clean-up exercise. I needed to throw out so many things, or give them out to charity. I remember some charitable moves I made back then in Nigeria. Giving and helping others were part of my mission in life. There was always a place to send used shoes, clothes, kitchen equipments, plates, pans, and even old books and magazines. It was a great delight to plant smiles on the faces of people. People whose lives only depended on other people’s philanthropy.
Who said that to detox is only good for the body?
We need to reduce the clutter in our lives once in a while. Not just clothes or pairs of shoes, or old books and magazines, but anything that takes space in our lives. Take a good look at yourself and around your house and you will see the excess luggage that surrounds you.
Be honest! It’s time to remove not just belly fats, but also a time to move away from bad friends, bad moods, bad relationships, bad choices and bad habits. You know what you need in your life. Discard those things that distract you. Those things that take away your peace. Those things that you know are not leading you anyway near your goals in life.
Back to my room, this exercise is a yearly routine when I decongest my wardrobe of any rubbish and get my closet perfectly organised. And this usual routine led me to a great discovery. “Wow! The times are truly changed,” I said, as I looked at the familiar writing on the envelope. I ripped the envelope open, and saw a beautiful birthday card, a card sent to me all the way from Lagos. This card was hand crafted in 2007. Admiring the lovely card in my hands and reading through its content, brought me to the realisation that I have been robbed of the sweet smell of love. Love scripted and designed by a fountain pen. Love shown in written form, conveying true feelings from the soul. As I read it again and again, I slowly sat down on my bed and felt a flurry of thoughts inside my head.
I lurched my mind back to the era when trips to the post office were common. A mere card has sent me back to that period when my pen and paper always come handy; when handwritten notes, letters, and cards, were the norm. I loved celebrating with friends and family members. I loved the feel and the pleasure that came with a visit to the post-office, to post a birthday or a Christmas card, or a letter. I never let any occasion pass by without celebrating it with cards and long written notes. I am not a shorthand breed; I loved to see a few pages covered with the scribbles I made with blue ink. I wrote down my thoughts in every line, in every page, with smiles and genuine love from my soul.
In my handwriting, I crafted my words.
There was nobody to emulate; none to mimic. No social media to consult for inspiration. My happiness was when the recipients of my letters and wonderful cards acknowledged me for the kind thoughts behind them. The responses, the thank-you calls, the appreciations and gratitude that follow after, made me fulfilled. Those were moments of absolute bliss. Priceless!
Today, I am faced with the new era of digital connections.
There is no personal touch in written notes anymore. Indeed, it has become a lost art, stolen by the new era of Digital Revolution. Social Medias have replaced the old norm of writing with pen and paper, or buying stamps and going to the post office simply to post a letter to a friend, family, or loved ones.
Even the Corporate entities, the various Tertiary Institutions have moved on with the times. Most of these organizations no longer accept the paper applications. These old traditions have been superceded by the digital and electronic applications.
I believe the post offices only get besieged by people during the Yuletide and other times when it is absolutely necessary. Only because gifts and packages could not pass through the screens of IPhones, Facebook, WhatsApp, Viber, Skype, and all the new digital buzz words that occupy mankind today.