I wanted to write about the lightness and liberty I feel cleaning out my things, but it seems someone has beat me to it- well, not someone, Time. Or, more precisely, Dave Bruno who has issued the 100 Thing Challenge, inviting all to reduce their possessions to 100 Thing(s) [Dave seems a bit opposed to the plural according to Time.] Having been beaten in this way, I'll humbly continue.
I was remembering my first apartment, at the oh-so-knowledgeable age of 16, and how I felt some satisfaction in being able to contain all of my items in 6 boxes. Easy to move and often. As my personal world expanded I began to allow boxes for each of the children and eventually stopped counting. We had overgrown ourselves. As Dave and others mention in the Time article, it has been a slow process for me , this cleansing. But I have stepped it up a bit to warp speed as of late and am considering JUST the things I really 'need.' It is liberating to find so many worthless things in my closet and set them free into their respective worlds, and out of mine.
I'm back down to about 6 boxes. I feel like someone claiming to be back to their college weight. I am definitely all the lighter for this. Unburdened. Unclaimed and unchained. Most of what remains in my 6 boxes has to do with sentimental things. There are photo albums and babybooks, children's drawings and writings, my journals from age 10 and a small collection of stories written by myself. A self that was apparently obsessed with the name Gwendolyn, outer space and witches. I have a few masks from my first trip to Africa and sculptures by Mason. That's really it. I plan to add one hand painted desk and a bike to my conservative storage space (aptly named space station, is there a theme here?) I feel good.
I remember planning for our first hurricane in Florida. I had some time to think about the items most important to me. What would I like to save? That was it, handmade bowls and a suitcase of photos. And I know deep down, even these souvenirs are not necessary. They are a privilege to have, a luxury to look back on and remember the times...
Even as I write this I can see tall, strong women walking down the road, carrying things on their heads. Their small bundles, grabbed in haste as they flee for their very lives. Which women? Which country? There are so many. Yes, 6 boxes is a luxury, but for now they are my six boxes.
And I still hold the hope of passing them on.
11.6.08
7.6.08
OUT
I've been slowly letting more people know that we're leaving for Africa. It's a strange process of coming out. The reactions have varied...and it might be important to keep in mind that my social circle is the diameter of a pea. Most of those I've recently told have many more than 6 degrees of separation.
Panic- 2 people seem to be in a state of panic, voicing such concerns as "You mean I'm never going to see you again?" (This does not seem to bother the speaker when I am right here in the same county. It is ironically only a trip across the ocean that inspires him to want to spend some time with me. If only I'd known this in my teenage years...) And another who continually questions, "But are you sure it's safe?" Of course I'm not sure. How could anyone be sure about anything that has to do with Africa? I'm sure that it's as safe as one could be, venturing into the heart of conflict and contrast, bribery and beauty. This speaker wishes I would just stay here, a strange affliction of wishing for someone whom you've given just a passing nod of greeting to over the past four years. I must note it seems to be a sincere wish for safety and surety and all things concrete. Perhaps she is more observant that I have allowed.
Devastation- 2 people fall into this category as well. One woman clearly looked as if she might be ill, the other started to cry. Cry? No one knows me that well. I'm not sure from where her tears stemmed, defeat by the greater powers, perhaps. Yes, the strong and mighty often prevail. The first case of shock was simply someone looking out for her child's interest. She was hoping to secure a good class next year, packed with boys and buddies (there seems to be a shortage of males born in the 2001-02 range.) Nothing personal, just a small example of how one life can touch another while the actual people really mean nothing at all.
Judgement- I'm most familiar with this type of reaction lately, as I've grappled with the subject on a very personal level. It still has the power to unsettle me. I am routinely shocked by how free others feel to impose their ideas and values as the one true way to live. It is small mindedness and ignorance at it's most dangerous. I've had someone offer to have my child live with her (no one mentioned homelessness or calamity, where is this coming from?!?! White righteousness?) I've had very personal questions posed without any thought that they might be off-limits or crossing some line (maybe I'm just not used to attention and this is how all Americans speak to each other?) To be fair, my answers vary, for no reason I can think of other than the moment I'm in. People want to know why half of the family is staying, how they will manage without me (far better than with is my current thinking,) what would possess me to do such a thing?
Nothing- considerably rarer but worth mentioning- in at least one case there was absolutely no comment. Perhaps she was the most conservative, respecting social boundaries, perhaps it was just not a good time to get into specifics. Or maybe people jet off to Congo everyday in her world. I guess one can never really be too sure of her neighbors. Clearly.
Curious congratulations- this, to me, would seem to be the most natural of responses, if there is such a thing. The best one came from my ophthalmologist. He's known me since I was 11, as much as a doctor can really know you, and I enjoy going there much as one might the spa. (I leave there having been well attended to and with, literally, a new outlook on the world.) He offered congrats and some fatherly precautions as well as the insight that this would be an incredible opportunity. He seemed to see each aspect, comment briefly and respectably kept his distance from probing questions.
All the while, other secrets have been tumbling out.
Panic- 2 people seem to be in a state of panic, voicing such concerns as "You mean I'm never going to see you again?" (This does not seem to bother the speaker when I am right here in the same county. It is ironically only a trip across the ocean that inspires him to want to spend some time with me. If only I'd known this in my teenage years...) And another who continually questions, "But are you sure it's safe?" Of course I'm not sure. How could anyone be sure about anything that has to do with Africa? I'm sure that it's as safe as one could be, venturing into the heart of conflict and contrast, bribery and beauty. This speaker wishes I would just stay here, a strange affliction of wishing for someone whom you've given just a passing nod of greeting to over the past four years. I must note it seems to be a sincere wish for safety and surety and all things concrete. Perhaps she is more observant that I have allowed.
Devastation- 2 people fall into this category as well. One woman clearly looked as if she might be ill, the other started to cry. Cry? No one knows me that well. I'm not sure from where her tears stemmed, defeat by the greater powers, perhaps. Yes, the strong and mighty often prevail. The first case of shock was simply someone looking out for her child's interest. She was hoping to secure a good class next year, packed with boys and buddies (there seems to be a shortage of males born in the 2001-02 range.) Nothing personal, just a small example of how one life can touch another while the actual people really mean nothing at all.
Judgement- I'm most familiar with this type of reaction lately, as I've grappled with the subject on a very personal level. It still has the power to unsettle me. I am routinely shocked by how free others feel to impose their ideas and values as the one true way to live. It is small mindedness and ignorance at it's most dangerous. I've had someone offer to have my child live with her (no one mentioned homelessness or calamity, where is this coming from?!?! White righteousness?) I've had very personal questions posed without any thought that they might be off-limits or crossing some line (maybe I'm just not used to attention and this is how all Americans speak to each other?) To be fair, my answers vary, for no reason I can think of other than the moment I'm in. People want to know why half of the family is staying, how they will manage without me (far better than with is my current thinking,) what would possess me to do such a thing?
Nothing- considerably rarer but worth mentioning- in at least one case there was absolutely no comment. Perhaps she was the most conservative, respecting social boundaries, perhaps it was just not a good time to get into specifics. Or maybe people jet off to Congo everyday in her world. I guess one can never really be too sure of her neighbors. Clearly.
Curious congratulations- this, to me, would seem to be the most natural of responses, if there is such a thing. The best one came from my ophthalmologist. He's known me since I was 11, as much as a doctor can really know you, and I enjoy going there much as one might the spa. (I leave there having been well attended to and with, literally, a new outlook on the world.) He offered congrats and some fatherly precautions as well as the insight that this would be an incredible opportunity. He seemed to see each aspect, comment briefly and respectably kept his distance from probing questions.
All the while, other secrets have been tumbling out.
2.6.08
The List
"You can have this one if you want, it's pretty big." She slides a black bag over to my feet and I regard it silently. I have been scouring the web and sending emails requesting advice on what exactly to bring to Africa. I'm looking for the essential list. Although I've been before, there are striking differences here. I'm traveling with 2 children, we're going to be staying for what seems like a long time (although, as with most school years, it's certain to fly by once it gets going) and I'll be working.
I've got the medical items down and the personal items but what will the boys do to entertain themselves? We've never had a huge supply of toys but playing outside is really big. Do we try to bring basketballs, bikes...? There will be virtually no mail service (so I'm told) which makes me feel even more cut off...no surprise packages, no Internet mail orders, no Hey-I-forgot-to-pack-the-____ -Could-you-send-it-out?
Then there are teaching supplies. What exactly do I need? want? What will be available? I like to pride myself on traveling light yet always being prepared. It is becoming a bit difficult to do both simultaneously. I'm looking for the secret list that will tell me, if you just be sure to pack these things, you'll have everything you need.
I have actually found quite a few lists. But they seem to be lacking in some fundamental way. They don't get to the heart of who you really are...as a traveller, as a person, as an artist. Then there's the person you want to be; this is the trap of bringing things because, while you haven't actually painted in more than 5 years, you want to and being in Africa, you just might find the time to. I'm trying to avoid this trap. I know the thing I will miss most is the kitchen drawer, the one that holds all the odds and ends, the possibilities for projects, the inspiration for creativity, the answers to those late night puzzles.
I eye the bag on the floor, the one she has slid across to me, with rollers on the bottom- a good feature for someone whose hands are perpetually full, juggling children and keys, bags and coffee.
"You can have this one if you want." I'm struck by the enormity of my task, the impossibility. I'm bound to miss some things. "It's pretty big." Not if you're trying to fit your whole life in there, I think.
I've got the medical items down and the personal items but what will the boys do to entertain themselves? We've never had a huge supply of toys but playing outside is really big. Do we try to bring basketballs, bikes...? There will be virtually no mail service (so I'm told) which makes me feel even more cut off...no surprise packages, no Internet mail orders, no Hey-I-forgot-to-pack-the-____ -Could-you-send-it-out?
Then there are teaching supplies. What exactly do I need? want? What will be available? I like to pride myself on traveling light yet always being prepared. It is becoming a bit difficult to do both simultaneously. I'm looking for the secret list that will tell me, if you just be sure to pack these things, you'll have everything you need.
I have actually found quite a few lists. But they seem to be lacking in some fundamental way. They don't get to the heart of who you really are...as a traveller, as a person, as an artist. Then there's the person you want to be; this is the trap of bringing things because, while you haven't actually painted in more than 5 years, you want to and being in Africa, you just might find the time to. I'm trying to avoid this trap. I know the thing I will miss most is the kitchen drawer, the one that holds all the odds and ends, the possibilities for projects, the inspiration for creativity, the answers to those late night puzzles.
I eye the bag on the floor, the one she has slid across to me, with rollers on the bottom- a good feature for someone whose hands are perpetually full, juggling children and keys, bags and coffee.
"You can have this one if you want." I'm struck by the enormity of my task, the impossibility. I'm bound to miss some things. "It's pretty big." Not if you're trying to fit your whole life in there, I think.
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