Knick Knack Nostalgia

A guy from Craig's List is coming tomorrow morning to purchase and cart-off my bookshelves, and I should be happy about it. I'm not. He is paying me for the bookshelves that I decided to sell, yet I feel as if he's taking them from me. Like I'm a debtor handing them over with reluctance to the person who's collecting my debt.

I think this anxiousness comes from my next move coming up in just 2 short weeks. This will be my 8th move in 8 years. Quite a track record. When I moved to New York, I sold about 75% of the stuff that I owned, and that 75% that I did have was exactly 50% of the stuff that I used to own. At one point I had a home that looked like it was straight out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. It actually was. I believe 85% of the possessions in the home were Pottery Barn. And although I believe I am a more interesting, eclectic kind of person than someone who has a house furnished with 85% Pottery Barn, the fact is that at one point in my life, I had a really nice, beautiful place to call 'home.'

I like the idea, and the practice, of living minimally. But, the truth is that I am too nostalgic of a person to do so. I am selling these coffee-colored bookshelves tomorrow, but what about the Harvard books that I bought to decorate them? I remember being in that bookstore, full of excitement as I furnished my first home. What about the canisters that I got in Maui that are hand-etched? The teapot from India that I picked up as I strolled through the dusty, mountain streets of Darjeeling? The gemstone rock that I got on a road trip during a season of my life when I needed to be reminded that sometimes, things don't look like much on the outside, but have jewels of tremendous beauty on the inside. What about that? Although those things are just 'stuff,' that 'stuff' is a part of me. It's been a part of a journey and I can't seem to let it go.

I realize this is totally an impractical emotion, living in a New York apartment. There is no space, and I'm about to decrease my bedroom by 50% with this next move. I rolled up to Washington Pl. last year with a 14 and 1/2 foot U-haul truck that I had driven by myself cross-country. Somehow, very carefully, I managed to pack it all in. But with each move comes a cleansing, and although I believe that simplifying life is an act of cleansing, it sometimes still brings a sadness to me.

In my mind I romanticize the idea of giving it all up and only keeping one suitcase filled with what I need to take off and travel the globe for 2 years with what I can carry on my back. That thought is great in theory, and maybe in the realities of some in this world, but not in mine.

Maybe a girl can have it all. I can de-clutter, simplify, know that there will be a time in the future again when I will truly have a space of my own... a space to breathe, to rest, to furnish... But, until then, climate controlled storage will have to do.

Life's Lessons from Lost Earrings

It's official. I now have enough widowed earrings to constitute an earring graveyard. From the regal collars of winter coats and tightly wrapped scarves, they have fallen to their demise, un-noticed on the slick winter sidewalks.

I got home last night, unlaced my snow boots, my shoes of choice as of late, and headed into my bedroom where I began to slip into something more comfortable. Watch off, necklace off, earrings-- and then just a feeling of, "oh, sh#&. Another one bit the dust." Another lone range earring, separated from its twin and mourning the loss of the camaraderie they once shared.

My point is this: for the 5th time last night, I made the same thoughtless mistake. After I lost my first earring just a few months ago, I thought to myself, "I need to not wear earrings without stoppers on them during the winter months when I wear coats and scarves because I'll lose them like I did this one." And then it happened again. And then for a third time. And then a fourth. And finally, last night, a fifth. How many times does it take to learn a lesson and make an actual change to a behavior pattern?

Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over, but with expecting a different result. I am convinced that in some areas of my life, I am completely insane. This got me pondering other lessons that I should have learned that perhaps I have not learned. What are the blind spots in my life, those places where I should be able to see what's coming around the corner, but I don't? Are the blind spots simply the result of lack of care or attention, or rather, just the process in which life chooses to teach us, sometimes through painful repetition so we truly learn and grow?

I do know for certain that I have made mistakes in my life that I have learned from. Mistakes that are painful enough that I am self aware to not repeat them. But, were there warning signs- the yellow lights- leading up to those mistakes that could have saved me and others so much grief that I simply could not see? Are some things in life only learned and truly absorbed through difficult experiences?

Human nature is sometimes very resistant to change. I do not want to lose another earring in life, metaphorically, so it's time to wake up and really see what lessons I have chosen not to see. I would rather it not take me being slapped in the face each time.

Just some food for thought from my overflowing plate.

How is it possible for 58 days to flash by so quickly? 58 days ago, I was moved to tears by that sweet man struggling on the subway. I wonder what he's doing right now and how he's making it in this New York winter. It is not that I have not been moved or touched to write since that evening. Many things have touched my spirit. It is simply that the days if life sprint by, which is what has been filling my thoughts this evening.

This is my first true experience of winter, and I now understand why bears hibernate during these chilling months. Although experiencing snowstorms and four distinct seasons for the first time in my life is thrilling, 75% of the time I would simply prefer to crawl into yoga pants, fuzzy socks and under a blanket; comfort and warmth have been my top two priorities as of late. I have never lacked so much motivation to do... well, about anything. Go to the gym, go out to dinner, walk downstairs and outside to do my laundry or even make a quick trip to the grocery store. The winter has somehow turned me into a messy bachelor with a heap of laundry and nothing filling my fridge but old, past-expiration boxed tomato soup and a bag of whole grain flour. Springtime, I need you to come and rescue me! Put a little flush in this snowy skin, ignite a bounce in my step and amaze me with the beauty of your splendor. Inspire me as you teach me, once again, that all things in life regenerate themselves with time and become fresh and new.

I have been thinking lately about the wonder and brevity of life. In a flash, ten years pass. I'm approaching my 30th year in 2011. While I recognize how young that is, as well as how thankful I am for all of the life experiences that I have had in my years, my upcoming 30th birthday is already a thoughtful one. It is the first decade I have entered in to with a deeper realization of how precious life is, how quickly it goes, and how I just have one. One life. One chance to make it all I desire it to be.

I'm living in New York City and experiencing new things each and every day. If I had 300 more years to live, I might

be in Sydney two years from now, or Paris, or Argentina... and while all of those are probable trip destinations, there is not enough time to make all of them a home. To form true relationships with those who live there. To learn and become a part of the culture. To plant roots. So, when it comes down to it, a contented soul is the canvas for a breathtaking life masterpiece. To choose well, with thoughtfulness and intention, and to wake each day and choose to be present in my own life, in my own body, in my mind and in my spirit and to make that day memorable for what it is. I work to remind myself that once a day has passed, I will never again behold it.

2 years

9 years

17 years

22 years

28 years

So, with that realization, I am going to leave this toasty apartment tonight and venture into the frigid Manhattan air. I'm going to take in the quaint, magical Village that surrounds me in the lower west side of New York. I'm going to peek in candlelit restaurant windows and watch lovers laughing and talking. I'm going to savor a glass of red wine in the company of dear friends and create a memory on this night. And then I'll sleep, and like a morning glory reaching out at dawn to embrace what the day will give, I will awake, open to the beauty that lies ahead in the day that is tomorrow.