What would you do if your wardrobe caught on fire, turned into ash, and then was dumped into the Baltic Sea?
I was browsing through my closet tonight, and couldn't help but notice how much I love each individual item. There's history behind my clothes. My collection can't have a price tag - comparable to the National Archive's collection of historical written documents. After these ridiculous thoughts occurred, I felt convicted.
What if it were to vanish? What if all of the clothes I thought I loved were to slowly burn away before my eyes? After some immediate shock, and maybe some tears, I know I'd recover. Over time, I'd accumulate a new wardrobe of beautiful clothes that I'd "swear to never part with" - why is this? Why do I place so much value on tangible goods? It's not because I want people to admire me. It's how I display creativity. As I grow older, I'm adapting to a more refined taste. I continue to study fashion, but will I ever wear out? Maybe I need a new identity - bicyclist, entrepreneur, chef, philosopher, musician?
Ugh. I know there's a reason why I have such an "eye" - but for what? Why am I so picky? What is my purpose? All I feel like doing is loving people, and learning more about the world. Yet is that abandoning things I've tied in with my identity? What should identity even include?
In the words of my sister Liz, "One should count each day as a separate life." That's what I'll do.
