201013 Into the Fray Acquisition and Letting Go

 oct. 14

Into the fray... K and I returned home from Quebec on Thursday and began to re-insert ourselves into the family. I pictured an elevator already carrying four: the doors open and K and I step in and there is a resulting shuffle as the others accommodate our presence. And Fig, too, slips in. Fig seems happy to be back home where everything is familiar and there are no coyotes yipping outside in the dark. He and the children were both happy to see each other. Tamar and her family have new routines built around the children's virtual school days and I feel like a guest waiting her turn to use the kitchen. It always felt busy when two or more adults and kids were in a room, but before our trip it seemed so workable. 

This morning as the kids go back to school after the long weekend things feel a little smoother and I am waiting my turn to get into the kitchen and find some breakfast. 9:01 a.m., Indre's class just started and behind me Robin is settling down at his desk, finding his headphones and logging in to his class. Very cool, very sci-fi. The front room has gone quiet, Tamar is heading down to her "office" and Nick has taken a seat by Robin to monitor his work. 

Tamar has a new guru: Marie Kondo. She wrote The Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up, a way to permanently unclutter and arrange your home to be efficient and give you joy (instead of headaches). I am old school, still working on the Don Aslett Method which probably closely resembles Ms. Kondo's approach with a little less zen.* But Tamar's enthusiasm has inspired me and I have been sorting stuff all over the house. K and I are hoping to return to Quebec again and when I am looking at whether or not I want to have something with me when I am away, I begin to see what I really love (Kondo would say "brings me joy") and what, if the chips are down, is quite "leave-behind-able". It is a new and surprising viewpoint. 

I am acquisitive: there I said it. I love a second-hand store or a garage sale. I love to buy old beautiful things, and sometimes sentimental, toys from the fifties and sixties, (or Teletubbies, or Buzz Lightyear!) Someone once told me to pick one thing to collect (and don't waste money and space on one-off interesting stuff. I have tried to do that.) My "thing" is Staffordshire ceramics, pre-twentieth century incense burners, "houses", and figurines, but I am interested in so many other old gadgets, toys and beautiful things that I can't help but bring home, to enjoy, or because I imagine they are valuable (but when did I ever resell anything for lots of money?). I have not one, but two, lovely cedar-lined blanket chests in my bedroom, vintage clothes (which I wear - so no deducted points); I always buy a kaleidoscope if it's novel and interesting, folk art, puppets, Steiff stuffed animals, imaginative earrings, and mosaic stock, meaning china that I can use for that purpose.  I imagine that I may one day have house-space for these lovely things: meaning I am waiting on some future which may never materialize. 

So, for the last few days (since I woke up on Friday) I have been going though drawers and closets and boxes looking for things I want to take with me on whatever journey is before me and also those things which I want to return to when my wandering has ended. I have been surprised at how easy it is to let go of some things, and at how certainly my heart says "keep this" or "take this with you if you can". I am, as it were, on a roll. I am being careful to distinguish impulse rejection from certain separation. I have done these separation events so many times I feel as if I'm good at it. The subtle emotional and spiritual attachments to objects has perhaps been a personal study since I am both sentimental and acquisitive. I have observed in my life how with the loss of a loved one, the inheritance, physical and emotional, lingers, for closure, or for the phoenix rebirth in some unforeseen direction, or for the time you are ready to deal with it. My mother 29 years ago, my friend and sister-in-law 23 years, my father 17 years, my brother 16 years, my dear mother-in-law this year: they leave behind this baggage, from regrets and sadness to photographs and rings. I am happy with my progress in the "Kondo" process, with the sense of forward movement it gives me, with the sense of peace I feel. I am doing well. Tamar's new interest has come at a good time for her and for me. 

Keep safe, keep well. 

Mumma Yaga.      "October is a good month for a pandemic." says Rain.

* https://donaslett.com/collections/books    Don Aslett's books and website.