The Garbage Can

 While entering into the experience of a Monet art exhibit in West Sacramento, it all came home to me.  My first memory as a child was when I was 4 years old.  It was of the a garbage can under our kitchen sink while my Mom washed the dishes in that same sink.  Until 4 I lived in the non-material world of inner silence, beyond concrete images.  The material world presented itself at this point as passing.  All we buy eventually passes into the garbage.  And there is the cycle of clean-dirty-clean-dirty and so on. This includes the human body.  The material we value so much is passing.  The interior we ignore is real and eternal.   And it does not age or get dirty.