When Things Need To Move Along

If I am not using something I own, I give it away or sell it. I release all things that no longer benefit me: objects, ideas, habits, or relationships. I make way for the new to come bursting forth into my life. I am fulfilled in every way.  — Louise L. Hay

A friend posted this quote on Facebook, and the thought fell on the quite fertile ground of my cleaning out and moving things along.  Over the last months I have been doing a lot of re-thinking about how I live, what I have around me, what I really need.  Occasionally I dip into the not-so productive area of how I accumulated so much and why I feel I have to continue to live with it, and I am reminded of something I read, many years ago, that Cher said (when she and Sonny were just becoming famous singers).  She said that Sonny found two of some kitchen appliance, like an electric skillet, I believe, and he asked her why she bought two of the same item.  She said that she was afraid something would happen, and they wouldn't have the means to buy one again, so she bought two as a hedge against the possibility of bad times.  Of course, I am really, really paraphrasing and relying on forty or more years of memory here, but that is the gist of the story.

I suppose that anyone who has had a bumpy road has a long memory, and I am no exception.  Not that I have two of things.  I just have things.  Things I am fond of.

I got a break recently when Jill said she was making felted balls for a school project for her son, James (an art teacher in a Knoxville elementary school).  I had a box of wrapped centers for felted balls, and even a few already-felted balls.  And a lot of ugly yarn I would like to wave on down the road.  How lucky!  What a bonus!  I set to work in spare moments— the evenings and television are the best for filling with brain-numbing handwork— and sent a large bag of balls out of the studio.  And, as he won't need these until Christmas, James will have another bag or so before I give up wadding and wrapping yarn balls.

Despite all my good intentions, felted balls won't get rid of everything that I don't need anymore.  In the house, I recently moved furniture around, sent some pieces to the downstairs bedroom for storage.  I am a restless person who likes to change rooms around, and the new arrangement gives me more floor space.  In six months, I will be itching to move things around again.  My plan is that if I can live without the now-absent furniture for a year, it can go to Good Will or to a shelter.  Once something is given away, there is no going back and finding it again.

Clothes are another thing that need to be sorted out.  Things I loved wearing, or things I made for myself or that Mother made for me— I can't even imagine what another person will do with them.  But, maybe I'm not supposed to imagine their ending.  Maybe I should just let them go.  Gently.  Folded neatly, as I care for them, but when the size is wrong, there is no remedy.

This is my current project, learning how to be honest about what I can and can't live with any more.  The past years of economic up and down figure heavily in this thinking.  I wonder, do others feel the same way, or is it just me?