Bin there, trying to do that......

Trash.....

And, I don't mean, in define of a human being.  I am way, way, way far from the end of the spectrum of perfection - but when someone is labeled, defined as 'trash', it's insulting, derogatory and dehumanizing.

I'm reminded of the story of the day the new Pastor was to be introduced.  He came to the service disheveled, tattered clothing, appearing to need a good bath, that.  Of course, sadly, he was scrutinized, avoided, and most certainly judged.  And of course all were shocked when he ultimately made it to the altar. Message taken though.

Here, I'm attempting to correlate LIFE, as it relates to the BINS we set on the curb weekly. There is the real trash, the all BLUE BIN.  Scraps, leftovers, Styro, Diapers, Litter box 'goodies', plastic bags, things broken, holy clothes, vacuum bags, yada, yada, much. Stuff that, after awhile, PEW.

In the udder... in our fine town,  BLUE BIN, YELLOW LID....... stuff that can be recycled, saved, used again and again.  Cardboard. Glass. Scrap metal. Plastic bottles, containers. Phone books. Aluminum.  File folders, paper, etc. Happy scrappy, so to speak.

And then, some communities, they giveya (actually sellya) PAPER BAGS for leaves, grass, that stuff.

I know I'm weird, and, I guess I'd like to think I can't help it, but, I liken our trash system to life in general.

BLUE BINS.  Trash. Ugly thoughts, bad memories, people that fail you, times when maybe you or I failed people.. Crass, heartlessness, looking out for ONLY #1, git ridda all that crap.  Weekly, mebbe even fill the 'bin', daily.  Namecalling, mudslinging. We all, I think, look at things differently. What might be trash, something not enjoyable - may not bug another. Life, stuff within, is discretionary.

BLUE BIN, YELLOW LID.  Recyclables. Things we like.  Good memories.  Stuff ya wanna do, remember, again and again, forever and ever.  The note from granny.  Mems of grandpa on the porch listening to baseball on his transistor.  Mom, as she held you while you coughed, she, holding her breath until she made sure you had yours.  A loving pat on the head from Pops at the proper age. The BFF hug.  The excited, wide eyes of the toddler, no matta' the color.

We are seemingly creatures of habit. You mean like nuns Victor?  No, er, I mean yes, kinda sorta I guess.  SOME of the time, we don't 'take out', 'git ridda' the trash in our lives and it festers.  Grows.  The stench worsens, can even make us unhealthy. It's as if we carry that bag (stuff) we should toss, it gets heavy, it's harder to walk, it stinks, our feet hurt, we get headaches, we can't sleep.  It simply ain't healthy. 

There are huge differences in "I ain't gonna let this bug me, flushing it right now", and, "That lady (man, job, traffic light, school, store, whadever) drives me nuts, every day.."  We don't purposely save it, yet we do, and we allow it to get the best of us over and over and over again. Just ask the Dave Clark Five.  Kidding.  We can, occasionally, or sometimes even more frequently, some maybe even always, cannot escape bad thoughts. Ultimately, we live there. Maybe living a life of "Ain't it awful."

BLUE BIN, YELLOW LID.... I've seen you wonderful people out there.  Neat, things are in order.  Whether they are out and about, on the phone, at work, wherever, they've already sorted crap from 'use again/like', and accordingling, smile happens  They compliment.  They get complimented.  The trash is gone, they're good, good. Thank you thank you, mind if we hop along for that magic carpet ride?

Victor, I guess I kinda get it but you ain't said nothing about the BROWN PAPER BAG, you know, for leaves, grass, twigs......  Right you are, and usually, there's even a small fee for the right to do so..... set those bags out.  I look at these bags as, personal, and maybe some would call it selfish.  I prefer to think of it for those days when you simply wanna say, LEAF ME ALONE JUST FOR ONE DAY PLEASE.. scram, exit, stage left, don't let the bag hitya in the booty.  Tooty fruity, oh Rudy.

Victor, you're weird.  Uh huh, I admitted to so.  I admit to being a lifetime work in progress in knowing what to let go and what to keep.  From the dugout... sitting around a table with loved ones or friends or others...  we pay attention to how those folks keep trash longer than needed, or, if they've got a handle on what to toss, let go of, and keep.  Then, we try to emulate them.

Bins there, trying to do that.

Sorry this didn't have humor... musical lyrics within...  feel free to toss it in the blue bin.

Love, Victurd