< by JHK >

A comedian once likened life to one big move.

When you move, he said, you need boxes and friends. You put all your stuff in the boxes, and ask friends to carry them to their final destination. Then, one day, you die. And this time, you go in the box. And your friends—the real ones, the ones who were there for all the other moves—carry you to your final destination.

If this seems morbid, consider that knowing this can add joy to moving.

Any time you pack a box, you’re still living. You’re still accumulating stuff, for better or worse, and you still have the ability to decide what this move will mean.

When you unpack the boxes, you have full control over what stays and what goes. You can pick up an object, and assign it a new place and a new meaning. You can get rid of the things that bind you to the past, and either leave their spaces vacant or fill them with new, life-giving things.

Each time you move, you also have the chance to pinpoint true friends. They’re not just the ones who carry boxes, but also those who embrace the potential of your new station. The ones who visit you, even if it’s out of the way, and celebrate the newness and opportunity that resides in change.