Things can be comforting. They can feel like safety in an uncertain world. Like the bag of (mostly clean) paper napkins that my great grandmother kept under her bed. A really large bag.
But stuff also is an anchor. It holds you down, clogs your energy.
We’ve only lived in our home for two years and everyday I am amazed at how much we have managed to accumulate. I have a passion for thrifting and treasure hunting which certainly doesn’t help. It’s hard for me to resist a rusty 1950’s shell chair on the curb or a bargain set of awesome vintage dishes. (Even if I already have three sets of awesome vintage dishes. Yes, really.)
If my sanity slipped the teeniest bit I could easily become like this guy, living in a heap of treasures, slowly decomposing behind his shed.
So this weekend five (treasure loving, stuff accumulating) mamas came together for an enormous yard sale. Some left with more than they sold (other people’s goodies) but most of us really moved some chi. At the end of the weekend we filled out truck with the leftovers and hauled them off to the thrift store for donation.
What do I feel like after letting the stuff go?
Lighter. Clearer. Freer.
Even Sage got into the spirit and put out mounds of under-loved toys. He made $20, which feels great when you are 5 (or 35 for that matter). Between our five families we made over $1000, a surreal amount of money for parting with things we didn’t love, need, or use.
I am taking this weekend’s clearing as an inspiration from here on out. It’s that concept that everything you have in your life must be beautiful or useful.
Or my ultimate goal, beautiful and useful.
That sounds like bliss to me.