I have recently partially moved 2000 miles from my
house. It is only a partial move since
the house is the main place of residence and the apartment 2000 miles away is
temporary. (Yes, 2 to 3 years is what I call temporary) It occurred to me, as I
frantically add stuff to the amazon cart for the apartment, how nuts this all
is. But probably not in the way you are
thinking.
At home, I have tons of stuff to do. Tons of stuff to take care of. Tons of stuff clean. At home, I am doing all I can to get rid of
as much stuff as possible. At times all
the stuff is suffocating. There is too much stuff. Too much to maintain. Too much distraction from what I want to be
doing. Too much, too much. I cannot wait to finally purge all of
it.
I was looking forward to being here in the apartment
with nothing. Nothing to take care of,
maintain, clean, or distract. I was
hoping to finally be free of the stuff and get to do what it is I want to
do. But why then am I on Amazon buying
all the stuff?
I say it is to be comfortable. I need the stuff to do
this or that or to hide the dreadful institutional beige walls. Wouldn’t it be
nice to have, and wouldn’t it be easier if?
No, no it would not. I finally
have the minimalist surrounding I am working so hard to accomplish at home.
Why
then I am so willing to destroy what I have been working so hard for?
Part of it might be making a new home. Part of it might be comforted. The part might be avoidance. The part might be a habit. Part filling a
hole. Part of trying not to be sad. Part because it is easier to maintain stuff
than fix me. It is all of that and
more.
Even as I click stuff into the cart for free delivery,
I am taking stock of all the stuff that is not returning to my house. I have a running list in my head of the stuff
that will be left behind. I know the
number of boxes that are already gone. I
have plans for getting rid of more. I
am finding a sense of pride, and accomplishment at all the stuff I have purged
from the house, while I fill the apartment.
I relish the simplicity of the minimal stuff. How easy it is to have space. All the empty cupboards, the lack of useless items
to dust, items to stall the next steps I want to take. But that lamp shade
isn’t quite right, this chair could use another pillow, what about matching
hand towels? What if I need…. What if there is a dinner party, or extra
guest or…
There is comfort in stuff, in surrounding ourselves
with pretty, soft, sparkly, new things.
There is joy in the Christmas morning effect of a new package on the front
porch. But it is fleeting. It all ends
up in a box to be purged.
Old habits die hard.
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