And There it Goes

Starr Cochran

As well it should.

I recently moved. One of many moves in my life, and probably not my last. Toss in the times I’ve packed and purged for family and friends, I guess we could say I’m pretty good at it. And while the projects are exhausting, the process continues to fascinate me.

What we collect, what is precious, what we can’t discard for the silliest of reasons. How much is enough? What may have been important to us years ago now has lost its meaning.

Moving is one of the rare opportunities which forces us to pick up every thing in our world and ask ourselves the defining questions. Does this still have value to me? When was the last time I used this, wore this? Do I love it? Does it fit in my new place, in my lifestyle now? How many slotted spoons, white cotton tops, drinking glasses or whatever do I need?

Most of us accumulate to fit our spaces as though we would be reprimanded for not filling our closets, homes, garages to capacity. I began life in my last house with a few pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in a one-bedroom apartment, kitchen basics, and some paintings. The new two-bedroom, two-bath allowed for more. And so over the next three years my belongings grew.

The simplicity of the new home has called for less not more and the process of introducing my contents into its space has made me examine not only the things of my life, but areas of my life. What do I value? Who do I value? What parts of my life can I adjust so that I too can simply be? Is it time to say goodbye to something, someone, a behavior, belief, a whatever that no longer has a place in my world?

There’s always room for less. In doing so we make room for more.