Today I put pen to paper meaningfully, in a way I haven’t made an effort to do in quite a while. For a long time, this was simple and pure exhaustion- the product of working a job that took most of what I was mentally and emotionally and left little energy for most sorts of intentional pursuit. After that came along a lengthy and as of yet largely fruitless job search that has robbed me of any notion of beneficence (thank you Catherine O’Hara) within much of our society in general.
It seems then that I am in danger of having had ultimately treated writing, a pursuit I once enjoyed in rain and shine, as a luxury, product of good times and better days.

And that is exactly my mistake, isn’t it? Taking something that once provided a therapeutic bulwark regardless of my circumstances, tossing out the tough bit, and keeping only the easy part. More accurately, needing the notion that things are inevitably good or getting better to be a fundamental truth before I reach for something that I ultimately needed far more.

About a week ago, my family was in a car crash. Understand me when I emphasize that this was not a fender bender, but a full head on collision. Both cars were totaled. We left injured and traumatized. Recovery will be long and somewhat difficult. But recover we will.

Incidentally, my biggest regret was my anger towards the other driver. I chose rage over humility, empathy, and forbearance (grace, if you will); I chose to see an enemy when I should’ve seen another human being who made a terrible mistake for which we, all of us, suffered.

The thing is, a few days later, we decided to return to the scene. Our memories were somewhat shaken, and we wanted to take a look at the place to see what answers the remaining evidence might provide us. And what we found… Was nothing. Barely a mark. There was a small stain on the road that might’ve been from oil from one of the vehicles. A couple of vague, hardly perceptible outlines from pooling liquids, long since evaporated. A few tiny bits of glass and plastic. But really just nothing.

It is startling that this event, so overwhelming, so shocking, so traumatizing was left unremembered in this place. We stood on the proverbial precipice to find only a void. Our vehicle was pushed back several yards, the front end basically destroyed. Where were the tire marks? Where were the oil stains? Anything left to tell the world that something terrible had happened in this place. Nothing.

In hindsight, I don’t really know what I was looking for, or why I had expected to discover anything. In my layman understanding, insurance companies and clean up crews work quickly. A road needs to be used, and so the wreckage needed to be cleared. The various fluids we put in our vehicles are somewhat toxic, and they need to be cleaned up quickly and thoroughly. And the cars that travel over that road will eventually diminish or erase most marks left there. The only thing left to see was bare pavement, a street like any other.

In the end, I suppose I had expected permanence. I had expected the world to change in just a moment and then remain the same if only while I caught my breath. In spite of or maybe even rather for my benefit, the world continued to change around me, and the remains of this brutal moment in my family’s history was quickly erased; almost as if it had never been.

Things change. Grasping to permanence or some notion of the past is ultimately a futile and foolish endeavor tempered in fear. The need to cling to what is or what was a sort of deceitful buoy that we expect will help us resist the current. But it doesn’t. We are only lying to ourselves to preserve some nonsensical form of comfort. Mind you, where we might find more comfort in learning and accepting the truth.

Adjacent and unrelated to this event, I have recently been trying to sell some board games off. Quite a few actually, about half of my collection. Mostly just to thin it out; let go of those games I don’t as much enjoy, and focus on those titles I truly love. Hey, with the extra space, I’ll have room for a few new ones. Also, I have increasingly had the opportunity to game with new people, more of whom have game libraries in their own right. In theory each new friend expanding the communal library amongst all of us. This evolution in my experience of the hobby has been a wonderful experience. Also, if you found your way to this dusty old site, and choose to take only one thing away from this rambling editorial, it should be this: board gaming is awesome, it’s the best hobby you don’t yet have.

In this endeavor, I’ve been asked so many times “Why are you doing this? If you like these games, why are you letting them them go?” In response, I have routinely offered detailed explanations as to why this or that game no longer has a place in my library. But I suppose I should’ve asked the simpler and more direct question “Why aren’t you letting some of yours go?” the simple truth is, I don’t need them all, and I will be okay and better off without those I choose to move on from. After all, it’s just stuff.

All too often we fight change. Hanging on to things that ultimately hold us back… Clinging on to pretended notions of what the past was… Or doggedly holding on to beliefs that don’t serve us or others… Refusing to let ourselves believe that things will change. Or even convincing ourselves that change will lead to disaster without testing the potential of something new- and willingly destroying ourselves and damaging everyone and everything around us in trying to prevent it.

So in the end, what I really want to do or rather what I set out to do, is encourage you to find peace in change. Without anger, distress, or sanctimony. It will happen. It is inevitable. And the only thing wrote from trying to prevent it is pain- and mostly for you and the ones you love. So come find your peace. Embrace change with me- whatever that means for you. And as always, thanks for stopping by.

Also, you? Over there? Yes, you. You specifically have too many board games.