What is the connection between travelling, writing, decluttering and downsizing?
With sixty-seven years of travelling behind me I’ve collected a few curios. My treasures. As an avid reader, I also collect books. Some folks might say I’ve amassed a tonne of clutter.
Several friends have been downsizing for moves into smaller homes. I’ve observed as they decide what to keep, sell, donate and toss. When my dad recently downsized, I ended up on the front line of tossing because there was no opportunity for selling and donating. Watching family mementos and furniture disappear into the haul truck was painful. Directing the operation felt like betrayal.
Last weekend, CBC’s North by Northwest radio host, Sheryl MacKay, interviewed Death’s Apprentice, Christa Overnell. They discussed Swedish Death Cleaning. I was riveted. In 2017, Swedish artist and world traveller, Margareta Magnusson, wrote The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. From the Christa Overnell interview, I understand death cleaning to be decluttering and organizing so that when we die, our lifetime accumulation of treasures doesn’t overwhelm those we leave behind. The idea is to take responsibility for the curation and disposition of our own stuff before it becomes someone else’s junk.
I’m sure many of us have read various articles and books espousing decluttering as a Zen-like experience, and that unburdening ourselves of unnecessary things is a type of freedom.
I plan on moving to a smaller house within the next three to five years. Lots of time to declutter, if I start picking at it now. I’ve ordered Magnusson’s book – oops – another book. Hmm. That’s going in the wrong direction.
However, I’ve reduced my library by two bookcases – six shelves of books have made their way to the second-hand bookstore and other homes. It’s taken me a couple of months to part with those treasures, but I remain surrounded by a comfortable number of books. More will find new homes over time. I’ve loaded a collection of two-litre beer steins into my smart car and, along with three boxes of glassware not touched in twenty years, taken them to the thrift store. My doll collection. That posed an emotional challenge. But I’ve not looked at those little plastic faces in forty years. Five special ones remain – the rest are gone. One of the dolls I kept is a three-centimetre-tall china doll dating from the 16th century. Should I embarrass myself by admitting to a collection of stuffed animals? No longer – except for the Winnie the Pooh that my parents gave me for my first birthday. Photos are next. My goal is to reduce eight shoe boxes of loose photos to one. I’ll let you know the results.
And then there are the letters. This is where my writer brain gets in the way of my declutter brain. My mother kept every letter I wrote home from overseas tours in Egypt and Germany. My husband kept the letters I wrote to him. I wrote a lot of letters, pouring out excited discoveries and passionate love. The passionate love – these I will read – maybe – then consign to the burn pile. No way I want anyone else reading those. The others pose a conundrum. Perhaps they represent excellent source documents for some future writing project. To keep or not to keep? That is the question.
One person’s curio treasures might be another person’s clutter. I’ll be taking a hard look at my curios with a view to reducing their number, but that is a task for after I deal with the photos and the letters. I can only manage one small decluttering step at a time. At this rate – the task will take me at least three years.
To my friends who have decluttered, you have my admiration. To those in the process, I wish you strength to see it through. To my sons who will inherit what I leave behind – I promise to ease your burden.
The picture – you judge – curio treasures or clutter? If confined to just a couple of well-dusted shelves, then surely, they are treasures.
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