Once again, for the second time in 18 months, I am editing
my life down to 30 kilos of stuff, the maximum allowed by the airline. It is
odd to me that after spending most of my life collecting and hoarding things, I
find it incredibly satisfying to let go of things. The first time I did it was
terrifying. I was scared that it would feel like cutting off a limb, giving up
a part of myself. And the truth is, it was not at all like cutting off a limb,
but very much about giving up a part of myself.
It is amazing to look at things, and they are just things,
and ask if it is really important, if it really matters in my life or in the
whole scheme of things. I find that what I hold onto are not the things of
monetary value. For the second time, those are the first to go. The things I
hold onto are the ones with memories attached. The chops I bought in China when
I was there with Ulco and Ann and the Buddha that Mark gave me as a gift from
Thailand. As objects, they are worth very little, but to me, they are priceless.
They are a record of my life, where I have been and reminders of my friends.
I think I will make this a yearly ritual. Not moving, but editing my life and separating what
is important and what is just lingering and cluttering. And the weird thing in
all of this, is that I find I get so much when I let go…
