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.
