The Shopping Bag

This narrative piece was read last night at "The Puzzle: A Festival of New Work" at Marble Collegiate Church in New York City. I was thrilled that it was selected as part of the festival!

THE SHOPPING BAG

Every person living on this earth is required to walk through the experience called life individually and, basically, alone. We encounter others along our way, and we often walk alongside them for awhile on our life’s journey - sometimes for a short distance, while other times for many miles. When it comes right down to the actual trip, however, we each have our personal road to travel. The road I travel through my life is mine alone, and nobody but me will experience it in its entirety.

I enter my life carrying a shopping bag of sorts, which stays with me throughout my journey. In my mind’s eye, I see it as the type that department stores dole out at Christmastime to holiday shoppers. Square-shaped with lots of room for packages, it is made of sturdy heavyweight paper, with a stiff, plastic-coated rope handle at the top on each side for easy grasp. I use my shopping bag to collect and store the many articles I pick up and carry along with me as I walk down my life’s road.

As a child, I tend to drag my bag along beside me. I am so small, and it is very large. It isn’t heavy yet, and it has plenty of room inside. Among the few things I carry in my childhood bag are the sticks and stones that break my bones, and the words that are not supposed to harm me. I also carry a bushel and a peck of “I love you”, and a hug around the neck. My bag may not be full, but I discover that it is very difficult to remove items from it, and that it is easy just to carry the bag with these things inside. Who knows? I may need them later on!

As I grow, the shopping bag ceases to drag the ground, and I carry it along beside me, still collecting items to put into it. I switch hands from time to time as the weight of it tires out one side of my body, and then the other. I also swing it over my shoulder from time to time to carry it like a back pack. Every now and then I look into the depths of the bag to discover that it is filling up with all kinds of interesting and important items that I have collected during my childhood and adolescence.

My walk continues, and I realize how handy my shopping bag has become. I pick up things as I travel, studying, scrutinizing, and turning them over and over in my hand, before making the commitment to place them inside my bag. I decide that some things aren’t worth keeping and toss them back onto the shoulder of the road, discarding them as worthless or not necessary at this time in my life. Those items that I decide to keep find their place inside my bag.

With this decision-making process comes the problem of determining what to keep and carry and what to leave behind. Sometimes I make good decisions, while many times I make poor judgments about the value of the things I find. I stop to collect rocks and stones, and more sticks, sometimes a banana peel or an apple core. I know these things are potentially hazardous for my journey, but for some reason I am compelled to keep them, even though they are of no real use to me, and only add weight to my bag and take up space.

As I continue walking down my road, my shopping bag gets heavier and heavier with all sorts of stuff. I don’t know why, but I pick up a handful of dirt and sprinkle it on top of my assortment of articles. Maybe the dirt camouflages what lies beneath, or maybe I have simply become a collector of useless items. Even though my load is getting heavier and harder to handle, I find that I enjoy looking down into the bag and feel a sense of pride in all the junk I am able to lug along with me. I am strong and able, and my weighty bag is the sign to myself and everyone I encounter that I can handle my life and carry my load all by myself. I am proud of my shopping bag and of all the things I keep stored within. It has become a part of who I am, and I believe that I need each and every item with me all of the time.

I am surprised when I come to a fork in the road and another person joins me going the same direction. We walk in silence for a short distance, scrutinizing each other and stealing furtive glances into the other’s bag. We carry our own load protectively until we are too tired to go further, and we stop to rest along the side of the road. A superficial conversation begins, and then we take a giant step by reaching into our bags and pulling out an item to show the other. What a risk this is! Is it worth it? If it isn’t, we look at each other’s possession, comment on it politely, and then return the treasure back into the bag where it belongs. After a brief rest, we rise refreshed and continue down the road to the next fork, where we part company and continue on our respective journeys in solitude.

But what if we share our treasures with each other only to find out that we carry similar items in our bags, and we can exchange personal thoughts about our journeys? We may even dump our bags in the excitement of finding someone who is interested enough to examine and admire our belongings! We ooh and ahh over the rocks and sticks and wadded up paper and crumpled up containers we each are carrying, and we help our new companion re-pack our shopping bags, placing everything very carefully back into place. We might even convince the other of the worthlessness of an item or two, and leave it behind on the road. We then decide to walk together for awhile, where we can share our load by carrying the other’s bag for a short distance, giving each other a respite from the heavy weight.

As the two of us amble down the road together, we notice wildflowers growing along the way. We pause to pick a few, proclaim their beauty to one another, and place them gently in the top of our bags. My friend finds a bird’s feather, and a rainbow, a chip of a robin’s egg, and the song of a waterfall, and shares these delicate and lovely items of nature with me. As they are placed into my bag, an amazing thing happens. The shopping bag feels lighter and easier to carry. I check the bottom for a tear or a rip, but find none. I still carry all my prized possessions, but they appear to have lost their heaviness. The beauty of the newfound treasures has transformed my bag into a lighter, more manageable piece of baggage.

My journey continues, and even though my friend may have to leave my road to take another path, I keep the gifts with me. I hold them from time to time, remembering. Their beauty lasts, never fading away, and they rest lightly always in the top of my shopping bag. They have made my load lighter, and I tire less quickly.

As I reach the end of my journey, I pause to examine once more the contents of my shopping bag to reassure myself that I haven’t lost anything along the way. I have carried these things for such a long time, and they have become a part of who I am. I open the bag wide and stand amazed at what I see. All the contents are gone! No rocks, no sticks, no banana peels or apple cores, no wadded up paper or crumpled containers. Even the dirt that was sprinkled over everything is gone! My bag is empty, or appears to be so. I look more closely. I bend down for a closer examination. Wait! There is something still in my bag. Resting lightly in the bottom of it, I see a wildflower, a rainbow, a bird’s feather, and a small blue chip of a robin’s egg.

And when I place my ear close to the bag’s opening, I hear the song of a waterfall.