boxes

Lately I've been reading In Arabian Nights by Tahir Shah.  At one particular point in the book, the author (and main character of the book) recounts receiving an ornate box with a story written on a piece of paper placed inside for his fifth birthday.  Upon receiving the gift, the boy's father says:

"This box is very lovely... You can see the colors, and the work on the sides.  But don't be fooled, Tahir Jan, this box is only the container.  What's held inside is far, far more precious.  One day you will understand." (173)

As I read this, it struck me how people are so much like boxes.  Our bodies are just containers.  The most valuable things are what we hold inside. 

So what do we hold inside our "boxes?"  Our values, our past experiences, our hopes, our hurts, our ambitions, and so on.  Essentially, we are carrying stories, all kinds of stories.  We're constantly deciding which stories we put in, which stories we pull out, and which ones that we want to carry around with us.  I've also been observing in my own life how the things that I choose to carry profoundly affect the way I experience and live my life and others around me.  I need to be aware of what I'm holding in my box.

I think it's difficult for some people to identify what they carry around in their box or they don't like to (or perhaps even want to) think about the contents for whatever reason.  Instead they distract themselves with decorating their box, taking care of others' boxes, doing things that having nothing to do with boxes, etc.  But regardless, we're still affected by their box's contents.

We only get one life.  We should be pickier about what we carry around in our boxes.