Moving Freely

I had the most astounding epiphany the other day, as I was sitting in the ruins of my apartment trying to figure out how I was going to get all my junk into storage: I don't have to keep this stuff.

There are so many laws and regulations in place in our lives, that it's liberating to realize that the one thing no one can make you do is keep stuff you don't want. I don't want to own most of what I possess. Like, ninety percent of it.

So I scheduled a pickup from Houston Charity Agencies, started selling my books at Half-Price Books (yes, those SAME books I was mooning over a little while ago), and began throwing things away! This is perhaps the single most liberating experience of my life, letting go of so many things. I've been glowing with happiness and peace ever since and spreading news of my decision like an evangelist.

I do understand that not everyone can realistically do this. I'm in a unique situation, moving home to be cradled (figuratively) in the maternal bosom and put up in a furnished place. But I still think that at many points in our lives it may be good to say, "I need a fresh start."

After all, think of your life as, not a single drama (or comedy), but rather a theater company. Every now and again, when a run gets stale, you start casting around for scripts that will express the core vision of your company along with your sensibilities right now. Do you really want to have a theater full of props from your long run of "The Master Builder" when you've totally decided that it's time for a Noel Coward piece? Of course not! Time for new props, new costumes, and a new set.

On Minimalism

I have been reading The Joy of Less, A Minimalist Living Guide. That sort of book is a dime a dozen, certainly--they basically tell you what you already know, which is that you need to throw out some or most of the things you are perpetually tripping over every day. Very good.

What I find myself questioning is how minimalism and luxury intersect, about which not enough is said. Because as I pare down my belongings, I find that what remains are usually the finest and most luxurious items. I have always thought that the minimalists would get further if they said, "All right, throw out those seventeen sets of stained sheets and go buy two sets of really high thread-count sheets." Or simply, "Half of what you own is ugly: get rid of it and buy two or three really nice things."

Surely the best thing about minimalism is that the nice things you do own or can lay your grubby paws on then don't get swallowed by all the crud that you own? Maybe the real tool to minimalism is buying one really beautiful piece for each room and seeing how cheap it makes everything else look--you'll be a minimalist in no time, doubtless!

I'm interested in the trope in minimalist texts that refers to having to "curate" items. That is, that you, as the owner of different items, then have to curate them in some way. Am I the curator of my Cuisinart? Perhaps. I know it's meant to give you an a-ha moment, but for me, it doesn't, precisely. It's clearer if you say I am the storer, washer, and mover of my Cuisinart. Then it all becomes perfectly clear.

This is all highly relevant for me as I face a large move without most of my belongings. The few I will bring are all highly utilitarian, though not, I must confess, in the main luxurious. Suddenly, my coffee press has become precious, as has my stalled knitting project. I'm sorting everything from books to cat toys to see what's worth packing away and what is, very simply, trash.