Today I’m thinking about item # 3 on my list (see Making a List), Paring Down. Notice I said, “thinking about” not “doing something about,” although action will follow (someday). I’ve read a good many organizing and decluttering books, and they almost always start with the premise that only a few people actually have “too much stuff” (hoarders) and that the rest of us could do with a good set of baskets/boxes/bags to organize our way out of chaos. I’m not sure that’s true. In my last effort to organize my craft supplies, I think the third-most discarded item was my organizing boxes. Whew!
Assuming that most of us are somewhere between hoarders and general stuff-keepers, there are really a few people out there who aspire to be Minimalists. These people try to have less and less of everything, until they end up in the nirvana of having nothing at all. I’m reminded of that cartoon of Buddha opening a gift, an empty box, and he exclaims, “Nothing! Just what I wanted!” Nothing is just what I want, but Minimalist is not in my genes. As I get older I want to pare down to just those things that serve me now, whether by being useful or beautiful or, if I had my way, both. Getting rid of things, especially things I’ve had for many years, shows me there is a connection between what you choose to surround yourself with and who you are.
I’m not the first one to make this observation. Marie Kondo, author of the life-changing magic of tidying up: the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing, says, “The question of what you want to own is actually the question of how you want to live your life.” In her book, she advocates getting rid of absolutely everything that does not speak to your heart. She recommends holding each and every item you own in your hand, every book, every article of clothing, every teacup and spoon and towel, and asking yourself, “Does this spark joy?” Then, only keep the things that do.
I don’t suppose she means feminine products and bottles of insect repellent. Or, maybe she does. That would be a life-changing process, to be sure, holding each of your tampons in your hand and asking if each one of them brings you joy.
In all seriousness, though, she’s on to something here. We do tend to have too many things just because they showed up at the door and we let them snuggle down into our cupboards and drawers and now we don’t have any way to see them along on their journey. A major example for me is my mother’s first wedding gown, from her marriage to my father. That was in 1950 and the marriage lasted 2 whole years. The dress is lovely, created from a French lace tablecloth, which is a story in itself, but it’s so tiny I could never have worn it myself, and my daughters-in-law would have just laughed at the thought! It does NOT bring me joy, but I’m not sure throwing it in the Goodwill bin would bring me joy, either. I find that some things I currently own are things I am holding “in trust” for someone else, and I just have to find that person. Someone else will find joy, even if only for a time, by my ability to let go, and then they will let go as well, and then the thing itself will pass away. All that will be left is a memory, and then finally even that will be gone.
My goal this week is to find a new home for my mother’s wedding gown. I will keep the photos of her wearing it, and someday maybe not even those. In the meantime, I will be closer to the point where what I own is actually in the service of how I want to live my life, which will be a much more accurate reflection of who I am.
Not Dead Yet 