What's not mine

We had a high tide and a bit of a storm a few weeks back, and this pretty little red metal canoe floated up onto our neighbor's bank. 

They're weekenders and live elsewhere, so their neighbor on the other side and I pulled the canoe up onto their grass and tied it down.  We're pretty certain it's a renegade from across the water somewhere, but maybe leaving it out in the open will invite someone to come and reclaim it.

Sometimes you have to do that with thoughts, too -- one of the things I learned in therapy.  Sometimes the stuff that drifts into my brain isn't really mine.  Most often it's stuff I picked up from my mother, but there are other sources out there -- husband, father, kids, community, books I'm reading (Henri Nouwen is definitely triggering some of this in me).  The important thing is to notice it's not mine and resist the temptation to claim it.  Tie it up somewhere off my mental property, admire it if necessary, but let it be. 

Speaking of which, I need to go clean out my physical closets as well as my mental one!  Anyone want a stack of size 10 shoes?