Transitioning halfway around the world is a harsh tutor. Even this early in the process of returning 'home' I feel at times my heart rend with the plethora of emotions straining at every turn. As we face the mathematical reality that 1 apartment of belongings ≠ 8 suitcases of baggage space, that which is most important to you becomes an extremely practical question, with surprising results. For instance, my books are the first to be thrown in, beginning first those that are considered resources, and ending with the pleasure reading, though I have to admit the the fictional books left behind are those that received more hours worth of attention than the non-fiction.
Interesting.
That those which I have invested hours in (in the case of the 'Eye of the World' series, hundreds of hours), I have little desire to take. My journey with them is complete, the story told, and there is no loyalty I feel to having them stand on my shelf on a different continent.
Yet my 'Charts of the OT' resource that I've cracked open a handful of times in four years rests securely in the 'to go' pile. That which holds fiction is of temporary value, for mulling over only as long as it provides insight into, or escape from, reality. That which holds truth is, by its nature, of greater lasting value.
Another example: my video game collection. Since games here are $1 each, I have amassed quite the portfolio of games in the past years. None of which I am taking home. Their value has passed and are being given away without a thought.
My Starbucks 'City' cups, however, will be nestled snugly throughout our baggage for safe transport home.
A game is the illusion of a journey. These cups represent actual experiences had.
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