I have a lot of loved ones in distant places; and though I am an entertaining communicant (if I do say so), I've never been consistent. At the end of long intervals of quiet, I find myself answering the above question, which tends to follow on the heels of Man, it's been too long!
Lately I've been answering this question with, "Oh, I'm packing." "Not much, still in the process of moving." etc. But I'm here to tell you: it's all lies.
Food, clothes and bedding have been in moved in for awhile. A place for everything, and everything in its place - I'm even at the level of detail where I'm buying an over-the-door-shoe-holder (which fits perfectly. Win!). So I'm hardly still schlepping back and forth waiting until I can actually inhabit this new place. I'm here. Habiting. It's good.
So... what have you really been up to, then?
Excellent question. I believe I would call it sorting. Winnowing. Editing. Spelunking through cavernous boxes, unearthing 27 years of historical artifacts. And putting them in a big pile to get rid of.
Horrors! My scrimp-and-save upbringing + my career in museums drooling over authentic artifacts + my love of stories = a fear of getting rid of ANYTHING lest it become that much more useful and beloved and necessary the moment you drive away from the Goodwill donation box (and you can't reach back into those big metal boxes - your arm would get stuck and people would stare). But. A few things have happened to me over the past couple of years to wean me from that cemented way of thinking.
Once upon a time... I moved to Arizona. It was temporary, and I knew that going into it. I also knew that I'd be in a place that itself would keep me busy, doing interesting work and sharing housing that felt like summer-camp. Thinking ahead, I packed light. Which for me means one very full carload. In four months, there were few things I'd left behind that I truly missed, and some things I brought with me (volleyball, knitting supplies) that I never even used. And I survived - nay, I thrived! So the idea of what I "need" to live shrunk three sizes that day.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... Then I moved back. Back to Oregon, to Portland, back to the same house I grew up in, three blocks from the hospital in which I was born. There's a lot of history there. And though it's all meaningful to who and how I am today, these things and locations and mementos are also snapshots of how things used to be - and aren't always relevant to how I want my life to be now. More than anything else, I think, that grated on me for those many months living back at home. It's hard to live differently when everything around you is the same. The fact that I was home during Dad's second bout with cancer (tko, btw) made it completely necessary that things be different from the last time I lived at home. We were all ready to put this thing to bed and move on; maybe in a different direction, but most important is to move.
When suddenly... So I did. Move. Hooray! The sense of accomplishment I still feel about that is far out of proportion for the act itself. Finding a place to live is a normal, adult thing to do; and pretty low on Maslow's hierarchy to boot. It's not something I should have to crow about. Anyway, then came furnishing a house - which I hadn't had to do in quite a while (temporary, well-stocked SCA digs didn't need my housewares). So I began a process that basement spiders will remember forever as The Great Upheaval. Boxes of flatware, wine glasses, salad spinners and the like were moved out of my parents' basement - a place they'd been since arriving from Massachusetts and my own Great Upheaval. Standing in a new and empty kitchen, pulling items out of carefully-wrapped newsprint (thanks, Dad) and repeatedly muttering, "Huh. I didn't know I had that," made me wonder if I really needed to have it at all.
When I was packing all this up - a long time and many miles ago - it seemed important to keep these things. Holding onto the items that furnished my life was a kind of sea-wall between me and the vast unpredictable change I was facing. But relatively quickly I learned to love that change. It's never stopped being big and unpredictable, but I'm enjoying the ride. And in doing so, it's best to travel light.
So here I am, parting with what is long-overdue to be parted with. I'm still the conscientious eco-citizen with a 'mending is better than ending' mentality, so don't haul out the dumpsters yet. There's friends with similar interests to be gifted, donations to be made, books to be sold (hopefully). I'm hoping to get some photos of some of the noteworthy items up here, or get word of it out in the ether for those who want them - if y'all can forgive a Pollyanna kind of moment - I've found such joy in passing things along to people who I know will love and use the things I've been neglecting. It rivals the joy I get from finding a really good Free Box. We'll see which impulse wins out in the end (or if they come to a healthy understanding), but for now, Cinderella mice and I are sweeping out the corners, letting the light in. It's tough, and there are hurdles: saying goodbye to things that have been friends. But worth it.
From here on out, we travel light.
First of all, I love reading your writing! It is so easy to read yet full of wisdom. Secondly, I go through the same "getting rid of stuff" process every time we move and yet....it recurs every time we move which makes me think (OK I know it is true), I re-accumulate. Learn from the old wise cousin.....STAY STRONG....don't buy, you don't need it. Oh like that might work. Love you my friend.
ReplyDelete