Summer Book Recommendation #3: Tuesday's Reflection

I happened to mention to our son recently that I was thinking about moving my mixer from the pantry closet to a place on the counter. "It is so heavy," I said, "and I think I will use it more frequently if it is in a more convenient location." I added that I wasn't sure where I would put the green graniteware breadbox currently on the counter. My counter space is limited.

I was thrilled when my son said he would like to have the breadbox that has had a prominent position in every kitchen since he was a little boy. As soon as we returned home from our trip to Cleveland where he and our daughter-in-love live, the breadbox, complete with a loaf of rhubarb bread, was on its way.

With that offer and response, I had taken the advice of The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, How To Free Yourself and Your Family From a Lifetime of Clutter by Margareta Magnuson. 

            A loved one wishes to inherit nice things from you.
            Not all things from you. 

"Nice," of course, is in the eyes of the beholder.

            Sometimes you must give cherished things away 
            with the wish that they end up with someone who 
            will create new memories of their own.

Magnuson urges us to do this sooner, rather than later, and therefore, to reap the benefits of living smaller.

             Life will become more pleasant and comfortable 
             if we get rid of some of the abundance.

This, of course, is a process, and one my husband and I have been pursuing for quite some time. In large part, the process was precipitated by our move from a large home in Madison, WI, to a smaller home, by choice, in St Paul. Our main joint hobby during our almost 47 years of married life has been antiquing. We have filled each home with gathered collections, and we have no regrets about doing that. Such fun we have had, but now space, energy, and interests have changed. This is a different time, and so the process of sorting and decluttering, and dispersing continues. 

Many books about downsizing have been written, most with helpful hints, but I so enjoyed the style and perspective of this book written by a woman who frames herself as someone "between the age of eighty and one hundred." I am quite sure I would enjoy knowing her, for she not only speaks from experience, but writes with a light and warm touch. I appreciate that she suggests this active process not just because it will eliminate a major burden for your family, but also because living lighter is a gift for yourself at this stage of your life. She asks, "Will anyone I know be happier if I save this?" I add, "Including yourself?"

And so the process continues in our house. This summer I am going through all the drawers in my garret; drawers that substitute for file cabinets. Next will be bins of notebooks and journals now stored in an attic space. One piece of advice I read recently, but not from the Swedish Death Cleaning book, is to leave every space at least 20% free. Fill it no more than 80%. I want you to know that at least five of the 20 drawers in the garret are completely empty. I am quite proud of that, but I also know, the job is ongoing. Witness this cupboard full of green depression glass. Who would know how much I have already sold or given away! 

Swedish death cleaning, by the way, simply means removing things and making your home nice and orderly "when you think the time is closer for you to leave the planet." That time is closer than it was yesterday, so isn't it time to get started? Magnuson is a wonderful companion along the way. 

Oh, and I want you to know that I am using my mixer much more now that I don't have to carry it up the stairs from the pantry to the kitchen. 

An Invitation
Have you started this process? What are you learning about yourself as you undertake this series of tasks? I would love to know.