The Parable of Socks

There was a funk this weekend about me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. You know it's the kind of funk where you don't want to go out and you don't really care, but cleaning and sorting sounds cleansing and feels fabulous. Well maybe not for everyone, but for me it was.
That was it, I had opened my sock drawer and was overwhelmed at its disorder and chaos. Like someone had lit a bomb in the drawer while the drawer was closed.  I am usually known for at least a good degree of order and not necessarily sterile clean but "clean" in my house and life.  Here was just one place I had slacked in my order queen duties.
At first I started sorting and matching pairs of socks, thinking, I didn't realize I had so many pairs. I recognized the variety of socks I had and their origins made me smile and laugh. Some were holiday socks that were gifts.  St. Patrick's day socks, Valentine's day socks and Christmas socks occupied my thoughts for a moment. Cleaning my sock drawer near the holidays always seemed such a good idea.  Also cleaning my clothes that go unused is also a good practice to further my belief in the Feng Shui of closets and abundance...make room for more and better!

This past year had flown by and here it is the first few days of  December, just a few more weeks of one of the most emotionally growth filled years of my existence.  I am daunted. Sitting back on my feet on the floor in front of my sock drawer, I feel this deep sadness, a longing to let it rip and just cry.  An aching for tears and release. Staring down at my sock drawer in partial clarity and misty eyed confusion.
There it was laid out like a parable, an analogy for my comprehension to behold. Socks.  Shaking my head and smiling at the simplicity of the Universe. Different colors, textures and sizes of socks.

I wanted order and sense. I sat back and surveyed the contents in disarray.  There were the pair of fuzzies that I wore with my hiking books, out on an adventure and connecting with the earth. Their comfort and purpose there to provide the necessary support for utilizing my energy and go forward in the world.  There were the favorite pairs of gym socks (multiples actually) that still maintained their integrity and shape despite the sweat and wear and tear from a workout.  Their elasticity and "snap-back" ingenuity made me smile. Every time I would get highly motivated there were always those days when getting up and going to the gym seemed impossible due to heart ache or body aches.  Yet elasticity held it post. I smiled and paired the gym socks ready for the next day's workout.
There were the pairs that had lost their elasticity, faded in multiple washings and even some with holes and were threadbare in spots. now here was when it hit me. These sock pairs were the symbol of relationships long since past their time. Faded, threadbare, lacking elasticity to life's pull.  These were the relationships unable to survive the year of growth and wear and tear. Yes these were the pairings that I needed to let go of and honor them for what they had done.  Their gift to me of comfort, support and warmth and fashion.  Looking back there were relationships and friendships that didn't hold up to the test of trials and time. Some of these ended in a pile missing their mate. Some tossed in a pile with their mate only recognizable by their remaining qualities of the story they held in my life.

Then it came like a torrential storm, unstoppable and in waves.  Some waves were great, while others were small. I cried deeply and held my old socks in my hands. There sitting on the floor in front of my open drawer, sobbing and examining my heart and its contents and pairings and trials.  It felt so sad, so ridiculous to be crying over old socks. I mean really, get a grip Ann! Then just as the rain of tears started, the ebb came to a slow sigh! I knew what I knew in that moment, it was timing and course.

Letting go and moving on.  There wasn't a need or purpose in keeping a lone sock, a sock with holes or one that was so faded it wouldn't even make a reasonable sock puppet or the ones that had lost their elasticity and shape, unable to hold up to the me in my new emerging self.  It was suddenly okay, better than okay, it was perfect.  It had balance and rhythm and rhyme to me. I understood the parable of socks.