Every so often I listen to Neil Gaiman read his poem "Instructions"--what to do if you find yourself inside a fairy tale.
Different lines pop out--this time, at the end,
Lighten the Load
I want to move on September 1 with very little––as if I'm going on Camino with what I can carry––so over the next two weeks, I'll give away most of my things. I simply don't want them.
I've already started--gave the big, mid-century sunburst clock to a friend who will fix the clockworks, some family things to my sister, art works to bink...
If there's anything of mine that you'd like, or anything you've given me that you want back, let me know!
I'm keeping my laptop computer of course; all the Orphan Reds (six) (of course); my art-making and sewing supplies; and many of the SNARP (stuffed needy animal rescue project) toys--many of whom still need more repairs or embellishments.
I keep saying this and not yet doing it, but I want to, I intend to write more--including fiction.
My dolls and toys are avatars of me, and my computer and art/sewing supplies are my tools of expression and communication. A whole lot of my life is recorded here on my blog, so it's not like I'm losing all records.
I'll have what I need.
Someone advised me about giving things away:
Don't touch them.
Yes! Things get coated with invisible "stay in place" stuff, so even if you want to let them go, even though they want to go, there may be emotional resistance when you handle them.
Luckily, other people are immune to the sticky stuff of your things.
I asked Mz to put my remaining books in Little Free Libraries when I was gone, and she has. She snuck some of the littlest toys who wanted to head out in LFLs too.
I feel lighter already.
The other night I had a dream of peace between me and my former married lover, Oliver.
That affair had dragged on and on and ended badly, as it was always going to, in mutual humiliation, around the time my mother died in 2002. Since then I've never had a good dream about Oliver. This was the first.
I'm doing something right, stepping away from the stuff of the past.
The past, of course, comes with me.
Different lines pop out--this time, at the end,
"Go home. Or, make a home."This evening I'll go home from my house-sitting gig, which has been an unexpected resting place. Often I feel uncomfortably displaced when I house sit––so much so that I mostly gave it up––but this time I'm between homes anyway, and it was a respite to have this temporary quiet place.
Lighten the Load
I want to move on September 1 with very little––as if I'm going on Camino with what I can carry––so over the next two weeks, I'll give away most of my things. I simply don't want them.
I've already started--gave the big, mid-century sunburst clock to a friend who will fix the clockworks, some family things to my sister, art works to bink...
If there's anything of mine that you'd like, or anything you've given me that you want back, let me know!
I'm keeping my laptop computer of course; all the Orphan Reds (six) (of course); my art-making and sewing supplies; and many of the SNARP (stuffed needy animal rescue project) toys--many of whom still need more repairs or embellishments.
I keep saying this and not yet doing it, but I want to, I intend to write more--including fiction.
My dolls and toys are avatars of me, and my computer and art/sewing supplies are my tools of expression and communication. A whole lot of my life is recorded here on my blog, so it's not like I'm losing all records.
I'll have what I need.
Someone advised me about giving things away:
Don't touch them.
Yes! Things get coated with invisible "stay in place" stuff, so even if you want to let them go, even though they want to go, there may be emotional resistance when you handle them.
Luckily, other people are immune to the sticky stuff of your things.
I asked Mz to put my remaining books in Little Free Libraries when I was gone, and she has. She snuck some of the littlest toys who wanted to head out in LFLs too.
I feel lighter already.
The other night I had a dream of peace between me and my former married lover, Oliver.
That affair had dragged on and on and ended badly, as it was always going to, in mutual humiliation, around the time my mother died in 2002. Since then I've never had a good dream about Oliver. This was the first.
I'm doing something right, stepping away from the stuff of the past.
The past, of course, comes with me.
This is the great thing about moving -- getting rid of stuff and starting fresh. I love moving for just that reason.
ReplyDeleteGaiman's Instructions always have been inspirational to me, too.
ReplyDeleteDon't forget, either, to look for little doors in the wall you've never seen before!
(O)
ReplyDeleteSTEVE: We share that! Also, an interest in rummage & garbage! :)
ReplyDeleteTORORO: Thanks for reminding me of that magic line about the little doors: YES!