"Love Everything, Cling to Nothing"

     I believe this saying is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. To tell the truth, I can't find it on a Google search, but it's still connected in my mind to St. Francis, who is my favorite saint--not because he loved animals, which seems to be the only thing most people know about him--but because he radically loved Jesus. Whether the phrase "Love everything, cling to nothing" is real or not, or whether St. Francis said it or not, it was still the way he lived. It's also an example I've been trying to follow for years now.

     We have a tendency as human beings to cling to things. All of us have some precious item that we couldn't imagine giving up, or perhaps it's a lifestyle, or a dream, or a project. Maybe we wouldn't let go of that thing--or several things--even if God told us to. At least, we feel that way. A good example of this for me is my stories. The idea of losing my stories is unspeakably awful to me, almost worse than anything else I could imagine. I'm extremely protective of them. I cling to them in fear lest all record of them is somehow deleted from my computer and the cloud and the external hard drives and USB ports where they're saved.

    There are other things I cling to as well: old toys, drawings I've made over the years, nostalgic trinkets, favorite books--Heaven forbid I lose my exact copy of Urchin and the Heartstone, with its special scent of Brother Flame's herbs! You could say that I horde nostalgia.

I can't let you go, Mokona Modoki!

     However, there's another part of me that just wants to give up everything, possessing only two sets of clothes and a Bible, like Braeton in one of the stories I'm writing. Or if not that, couldn't I at least have only one, little suitcase of possessions like Kobato?

"All I need is Ioryogi, my umbrella, and this tiny suitcase that probably only contains clothes!"

     I imagine monks living in mostly-empty rooms that are completely free of clutter, and wanderers traveling with only a wooden flute to keep them company. I dreamed that going to Zambia would make me more like these ideals, but when I started packing, I found that I not only had a lot of things that I wanted to bring, but also things I needed to bring. Shampoo, a towel, a blanket, clothes, books, notebooks, my computer...And the list just keeps growing. Besides, I just have to take Mokona and Urchin and the Heartstone and my Kobato DVDs...

How, then, do I escape an obligation to things? 

     I believe the answer lies in loving everything, but clinging to nothing. The Bible says in James 1:17, "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." We're meant to be thankful for the good gifts God has given us, but we also need to place Him first, rather than things. When I leave for Zambia, I'll take what is practical, and I'll even take a few special things too, being thankful to God that I have them. However, if something won't fit in my suitcase, I can leave it behind without regret. If something breaks, or I lose it--no matter what it is--I can let it go, trusting that God is more valuable than any possession.

      But what about people? Does this apply to people too? Can we also say, "Love everyone, cling to no one"? I believe we can. I experience something of the same conflict with people as I do with things. I have many people who I love and cling to, and even "nostalgia" people who remind me of my childhood. When I go to Zambia, I know I'll miss them. Part of me wants to be in touch with them all the time, but like with things, another part of me wants to leave my American friends in America, and my Internet friends on the Internet, and focus completely on the people who will be in front of me in Zambia. I don't want the distraction of constantly throwing ties back to where I came from--after all, didn't people in the past not even have phones or the Internet? When they moved away, they only sent the occasional letter back to the folks at home, and besides, I don't think I'll have the money for much Internet time...But even so, there will be people who miss me, and I know I'll miss them too. So what's the balance?

     Again, the answer lies in loving everything, but clinging to nothing. I love the people I'm leaving behind as well as the people I'll meet when I'm there. While I don't know yet what the balance will be between focusing on who's in front of me and keeping in touch, I know I can entrust these relationships to God too. I can trust that He'll show me the balance: it will become clear enough if I love without clinging. To entrust anything to God is to loosen your grasp on it and no longer hold to it so tightly that it drags you down.

     Only by trusting God with everything can I be a truly "free spirit"--like a wanderer who possesses nothing, but delights in everything he comes across.

Fai D. Flowright comes to mind...

      Anything we cling to in this world besides Jesus keeps us from being free, but at the same time, we're called to love people radically and to delight in God's good gifts. I believe such a balance is possible in my life if I trust in God, and that balance takes away anxiety and replaces it with joy.