Minimalizing: A Journey

I believe I mentioned it in a previous post - I follow minimalist blogs (Be More With Less, Miss Minimalist and Zen Habits) and have read enough books on minimalism that I could practically write a book or teach a workshop on the subject. Only hold onto things that you use regularly or that you find beautiful and give you joy. One in, one out (or more out, depending on what stage of the journey you're on). Etc., etc., etc.

I am an aspiring minimalist - not the type that only owns 100 items or the kind that sleeps on a mattress on the floor or makes you bring your own plates to a dinner party, but one that longs to live lagom - with the just right amount for happiness. I want to feel cozy and comfortable without feeling as though my possessions define me or control me. Occasionally I daydream about what it would be like to live on a boat or in a trailer - to be able to pack up and move on at a moment's notice.

It started before our last move with the memory of the boxes of textbooks from the prior move that I had not opened once in seven years. Textbooks are HEAVY and I didn't want to lug them again, so we parted ways. I realized I was never going to do calculus exercises for fun or re-read Spanish poetry from the 1500s. I went on to give away clothes, wine glasses, candle holders, stickers and the strange things that you have no recollection of acquiring in the first place. The "take a treasure, leave a treasure" stump near my house became my new best friend (though I never once took a treasure).

I could so easily become a hoarder. As a child, I longed to hold things that my parents and grandparents had held as children, knowing there was a special essence or quality about them that new items just could not possess. I feel environmental guilt over any wasted item and try to hold onto things past the point of any logic. And I feel giddy when I find a new use for an old item. When I started writing regularly in the morning, I gave a shout of triumph when I found a couple of college-ruled notebooks and loose-leaf paper that I hadn't used since grad school (12.5 years ago).

So knowing this tendency in myself, I try to avoid bringing new non-consumables in the house. My mother-in-law gives me certificates for trapeze or a spa for gifts. My hobbies don't require too many props. Running requires new shoes every so often. A steady stream of books runs in and out of the house thanks to the library. Pen and paper don't take up too much space. And I have enough outlay of knitting needles and leftover yarn to last years (but only fill a couple of grocery bags in my closet).

The hardest things to give away are things attached to my fantasy self who:

• bakes cheesecakes regularly (and totes them with a cake carrier)
• sews or repurposes clothing
• creates craft projects on a knitting loom (rather than just using my knitting needles)
• wears sexy heels
• needs a special pan to cook paella
• wears makeup more than once a decade
• hosts high tea
• plays guitar in a folk rock band
• reads chapter books to the children in my life

Are you holding onto anything for an old dream?