The Stuff of Life…

Stretching across the wide span of my King size bed, I place the final decorative pillow in the center and stand back admiringly, thinking, “As beautiful as you are, you are way too big to take with me let alone sleep in alone, aren’t you?” Yes, it answers; it’s height and width just too much space for single me. I feel swallowed up in it, and a little lost. I decide that this is one of the things I will have to let go of when I move back to the coast.

I have been doing that a lot lately—walking through the rooms of my house asking each piece of furniture, “Do I really want to take you with me?” Asking each piece of art, “Am I really in love with you?” Quizzing each tshotshke and pillow, “Do I really need you in my life? Are you worth carrying across the country with me?”

I know, it’s a bit over the top. But this is my stuff. As I contemplate moving my whole life Very Far Away, I am forced to assess the value of every thing I own. There is a lot of it. How did I accumulate so much stuff? It isn’t like I am a hoarder or anything, but I have a lot of things. Many of the walls and surfaces of my home are covered with the vast array of objects de’Art I have collected over nearly a half century of wandering around the world. Lovely prints, sculpture, candles, frames and pillows grace my home, providing color and texture, surrounding me with the familiarity of dear friends.

These precious treasures of sensuality satisfy and sooth me. Throws of soft knitted cotton warm me on a winter’s night while the luscious scent of a fragrant citrus candle calms me. On a Spring day the breeze carries on it the soft song of the wind chimes I brought back from South Carolina and if I am lucky and the sun is shining, the crystal prism hanging in the bay window paints a bold splash of color across my walls.

Yes, my stuff brings me such pleasure…and meaning.

Bowls of seashells and coral are present in nearly every room reminding me of my deep connection to the ocean. The bright, smiling faces of those I love are captured in beautiful frames and remind of the special moments that we have shared—moments that really mattered. My many journals of various sizes and colors are scattered around the house holding between their covers my deepest wishes and fears. Trusted confidants, they speak my language and capture my life as it unfolds—remembering who I was, and who I am, in case I forget. In the night, my soft elegant sheets hug me while I dream of who I will be.

Yes, I love my stuff.

But I can’t take it all with me. I want to travel lighter on my journey, feel freer. I need to choose what I will take and what I will leave behind. So much of my stuff can now move on and belong to someone else, bringing beauty to their home and their lives.

As I downsize my home, I will upsize my life.

Traveling lighter will leave more room for me to gather other stuff that I really want: experience, adventure and joy. I want to fill the cupboards of my life with knowledge, compassion and love. Fill the blank pages of my books with truth, wisdom and insight. Fill the hearts of others with hope, passion and commitment.

Yes, that is the Stuff of Life that I want most.

I turn around and notice the dusty fake ficus that stands in the corner of my bedroom. It will be left behind so that there will be space in my new room for the muses to dance around me as I sleep. I think I will get a small, living plant for my nightstand.

And a bed fit for a Queen.

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