Cleaning

As we are getting moved in to our new house, my Dad is preparing to sell his. This means that everything I have there suddenly needs to be cleared out, and this is no small task. My parents moved into that house before I was born, so everything I have saved from childhood, yearbooks, boxes of STUFF, clothes, blankets, furniture: everything must go! "Hurry, clean out the bedroom, clean out your boxes from the attic, and clean out your bathroom. Don't forget your Mom's stuff!"

At the same time, Mike and I are working to minimize within our home, so we are both constantly assessing our things and removing everything that isn't essential or important to us. It is strangely liberating to only be surrounded by things that we use or love. Never mind that our shed is currently overflowing and the stuff keeps coming from my Dad's house... but we have a goal and that's a good start.

All of this organizing and purging has me thinking about materialism. What is it really all about anyway? Sure, you need clothes to stay warm, a bed to sleep in, etc... but beyond essentials, why do we cling on to material things? And what was it about one teddy bear that compelled me keep him in the attic for 15 years instead of my other stuffed animals that were easily dropped off at Goodwill?

I have never had all of my clothes in one place. Until last night. I have always kept a full dresser and closet at my Dad's because I had too many clothes to accompany me throughout my many moves. However, yesterday I finished bringing them all home with me. Reluctantly, I dumped everything onto guest room floor and started sorting through the piles. After filling up 5 industrial sized trash bags for Goodwill, I sat on Mike's lap and cried. Not because I am sad to see it all go, in fact it felt good, but I have a strange attachment to some of the stuff I am purging, even though I didn't use most of it very often, if ever. I couldn't believe how many memories were stirred up by sorting through clothes or how emotionally laborious of a task it was.

Perhaps it's because our society so often defines people by their material things. How much stuff do you have? You must be rich and powerful. How nice are your clothes? How big is your house? And I don't mean this in a judgmental way. Sure, I would like to work towards seeing people more for who they really are and valuing them based on that, but I will venture to say that we all define people by material things to a certain degree. Let's face it, regardless of how much money you make or how much stuff you have, the things you choose to hold on to say A LOT about you.

And this is why I am not able to throw away many things that belonged to my Mom. As I still try to put together and remember the pieces of her life and my relationship with her, I study her things, read and re-read her letters, wear her clothes and listen to the music that she loved. In this way, her material things are important to me. They give me something tangible to hold on to when I wish I could sit down and talk to her. They sometimes give me clues when I wonder what she would say or do about something.

What about my grandparents who fill their house to the brim with trinkets from vacations, homemade clocks and do-dads that amuse them? Usually I am disinterested in over-consumption but it brings them so much joy that you have to love it too! I think I mentioned in my last post that during Christmas every year they create a completely over-the-top display of stuff and share it with any and every one who is interested. Every time I leave their house though, I feel warm and nurtured, not victimized by the commercialization of the holiday.

So, back to my original question. What does it all mean? Why doesn't Nanny's stuff drive me crazy like it begs for? I think it's because they don't define themselves by it. They love their gizmos and decorations and enjoy sharing them, but I can say with total certainty that they would be just as happy without any of it.

The lesson that I am trying to absorb from all of this is to remember to be appreciative of the abundant life that I have been blessed with. To enjoy material things around me when they are there and to try to let them go when their time in my life has passed so that someone else may be able to enjoy them too. Just think about that little bear that could have spent the last decade and a half being played with rather than molding in my Dad's attic.

I have spent the past year trying to channel the idea of living in the moment; I guess my stuff should exist there as well.