This is probably the longest hiatus I have taken from ASH (Adulting – Second Half) since I started writing her. And so I have also forced that hiatus on to you, my loyal readers. I’m sorry. This summer I have pressed my reset button and I’ve sat on it, like I’ve never really done before. I’ve done a lot of physical, mental and spiritual self-care in a lot of little simple ways involving rest, relaxation, gratitude, massages, reconnections with our friends, enjoying our newly restored pool and deeply reflecting on what we really want in this next stage of our lives. Our grown children are busy in happy ways. They are fulfilling their dreams and so that fills me up. And it inspires me to also dream again.
Starting next week, our kitchen and living area are getting blown up, in order to create something better and new. This summer was supposed to be one of me focused on cleaning out the clutter. “Kelly Kondo.” Hmmmmm. I have cleaned out a lot clutter in my mind, and in my heart, and in my routines. But material clutter, let’s just say that I work better under pressure. I told my husband and myself that finally today was a day without appointments and distractions and so today was the “headway day” of cleaning out the kitchen. And here I am. Writing. Writing a blog post when I haven’t written in at least a month. Sigh. We often are, our own worst enemies.
Someone recently told me something that I have to get written into the archives of this thought museum I call “ASH”. She said this: “I have never seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul.” Facts. I love my things, but I don’t necessarily think that I’m attached to them. The things which I am mostly grateful for in my life, besides my family and my friends, are my experiences, and the memories that come from those experiences, but for me, most of my material things are all tied up into my experiences. I have mementos littered all over my house that remind me of amazing adventures that I have had throughout my life. I delight in the experience of feeling excitement about discovering a knick-knack or a doo-dad or a trinket that stir up feelings in me. Many of my things make me feel happy for reminding me of the experience that evokes those feelings. I love the feeling of anticipation that comes with a load of Amazon boxes in front of my door. I freely admit that, but it is clear to me that my love is for the feeling – not for the actual thing. I love the feelings of security and abundance and nostalgia and joy. I love that many of my things that adorn me and my house, help me to creatively express more of my inner self to the outside world. That being said, I realize that all of the things could be washed away in one of our yearly hurricanes tomorrow, and nothing would be lost, but “the things.” I am the owner/gatekeeper of the feelings, and the memories of the experiences. I am the owner/gatekeeper of the joys and the memories that the things only helped to create. The things are only symbols and tools. And the things are only gone (even after they are long gone physically), when they no longer carry any meaning for me.
On that note, I have a kitchen I need to go clean out . . . .
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Hi Kelly, I hear you! Trinkets, memories, souvenirs, memories, books, memories, pictures, memories, journals(!), memories. It is never-ending. I’ve told my kids that when I die, come into my office (where I’ve spent HOURS writing middle grade books, picture books, short stories and kept hard-copies of DRAFTS) and just get rid of EVERYTHING. I told them you don’t even have to go through it. All my books, my notes. It’s a weird feeling to know that something that is so meaningful to me, would be just trash to anyone else. I don’t know what meaning this admission was meant to impart, except “Ugh!” One woman’s treasure is another’s trash. And yet! I’m quite happy sitting in here while I’m able to, creating new characters and stories, speaking into the void.
Good to hear from you, Kelly. Good luck with the remodel.
It’s so true, isn’t it Gail? I always feel like such a voyeur at estate sales, because all of these possessions were symbols of someone’s living an entire life. Myself, my friends and my relatives are always in shock when no one has any interest in their stuff (I had to call “Junk Buddies” to come get our piano). This is because stuff without context, meaning, and stories behind it, is just “stuff”. <3