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. 

Discovering the Sacred: Sacred Objects, a Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Recently, I met a woman who had moved with her husband from a five bedroom home to a 750 square foot condo. Let that image sink in. She assured me that they had not led a spartan lifestyle. A great deal of stuff had to go, and the process (Note the word "process.") was not always easy and involved negotiating and decision-making and some grieving. Her husband had a harder time with the process, and she admitted there are still things languishing in a rented storage compartment, but the result for her is FREEDOM. She feels free. 

     Almost everyone I know in the 60-70 age range talks about simplifying their lives, and what is meant most often is "getting rid of our stuff." It is a common topic of conversation, but is often more talk than practice. One dear friend, however, methodically and on an ongoing basis since her retirement, has been relieving herself of much of what she has collected and loved over the years, and while it has not been easy, I know she feels lighter and clearer. 

     When we put our house on the market, we went through a "staging" process, which now is something that is almost a real estate law. Even though a house is almost the most personal evidence of whom one is, the idea is to remove your own personality and create a stage set anyone could adopt. "Staging," however, is not the same as "simplifying." It seems to me that "simplifying," is more of a permanent decision, a way of adopting and adapting to a different chapter in our lives. Simplifying is something I do for myself, and staging is for the benefit of others. That being said, I don't miss most of what we have eliminated from our current living space--much of what is now in our own rented storage compartment. 

     I yearn for the next stage--moving into a much smaller house. I am ready to make clear decisions of what stays and what goes. I want to know which of our possessions will make the cut and will create a sense of home in our next living space. What I am striving for is a place where care of possessions and home doesn't bypass the pleasure. I believe that is possible. 

     One of my favorite books on organization is Organize for a Fresh Start, Embrace Your Next Chapter in Life by Susan Fay West. One of the author's key questions is, "Does an item make my house feel more like a home?" This morning I considered this question as I packed a number of favorite items gathered on the bookshelves in my office. I altered the question slightly. Do these things add to the sacredness of the house and aid me in living a more sacred life? Will they live in the next house? They have been favorite things, but are they sacred objects? 

    What is a sacred object? Here's one way to think about it, according to Jean Shinoda Bolen in Close to the Bone, Life-Threatening Illness as a Sacred Journey: "Whenever we are in love with what we are doing or who we are with, whenever we are totally absorbed, engaged, and fascinated, we are in Kairos." Without getting into an involved analysis of "kairos," I think of it as a time when something special happens or is possible, and for me one time when I experience kairos is when I am fully engaged with a sacred object. 
     The sacred objects in my life right now include my laptop, my journal, the books I am currently reading, and a fountain pen Bruce gave me years ago, which I use when writing letters and in my journal. I suppose I could classify these objects as simple tools or even as pleasures or luxuries in my life, but when I approach them as a way to know my essence, when I see them as spiritual tools, they become sacred objects. When I use them as spiritual tools, I am fully engaged in reflection, in discovery, in connection. Use of these sacred objects takes me deeper. 

    "Pausing often helps us to remember and value our ability to choose. Doing so with awareness, remembering to ask, "What's enough here and now? takes us deeper. We will find ourselves ripening into another way of being. It happens as silently and as slowly as as an apple turning red." Inviting Silence, Universal Principles of Meditation by Gunilla Norris 

    The good news is that these beloved sacred objects travel easily and will fit into whatever space I inhabit.
     What are the sacred objects in your life? How are you simplifying your life and in what ways is doing that a spiritual practice for you?