There are things about me that I just can’t figure out. Things that, given my nature, seem preposterous.
Such as my fixation on tiny houses and wanting to shed some of my belongings.
This sweet little cottage is The Whidbey house, by the way. And it’s cuter than a bug’s ear.
Sure, it would still be fantastic to have chickens in the back yard rather than the front yard, where they are here. Or anywhere for that matter. But it seems downright roguish to have them scratching dirt in the front. Like thumbing your nose at the world.
Because here, here they are even more special somehow.
I think that maybe as you get older, your belongings somehow get heavier and heavier to lug around. Just looking at them, knowing dust is collecting on them by the second and you’re going to have to whip out the dust rag sooner rather than later, seems more tiresome than it once did. I once dusted and cleaned with gusto.
And then to top it off you know your allergies will flare up.
It seems as though there must be something more important in life you should be doing. That you need to be doing.
Me, a person that could possibly win records for being able to stash more things in a small space than most people could conceive of. Seems kind of odd, doesn’t it? Like I’m two people split down the middle.
I’ve always loved those tiny houses. Maybe because I never had a tree house or a play house or a doll house. Or even, as a kid, a room to call my own.
But after I injured my ankle nine months ago, and the healing has not gone as expected, everything suddenly got more tedious. I began to look at these things around me in a whole new light.
Don’t worry, you lovers of red and cozy and collections and cottage style, I am never going to be a minimalist, though those people interest me no end. But I just want less of it. Instead of two TV’s, I’d probably just have one, for instance. Instead of four or five different styles of flat ware, I’d pare down to one.
Nothing earth shattering.
Just leaning a bit in the other direction. Not having shopping for treasures be the pinnacle of my month. Not salivating every time I see something red and wondering, wondering, wondering, fast as lightning, where I could put it.
Not trying to squeeze in even more.
There is more a question of need involved. There is more the feeling of being stifled somehow, and needing to take off layers of coats that are weighing me down. Not to mention heating me up.
If not for this injury, I might never have gotten to this place in my head that is mentally whittling down my possessions as I sit here with my ankle elevated. I would have thought the tiny houses were cute but really not practical. And I still don’t think 100 square feet is practical for me and the pupsters. I’d run into myself coming and going.
But 500-600 totally is. In fact there is something whispering in my ear: It’s a challenge. See if you can do it. See if you could pare it all back and still have your favorites (of which there are many). And still not have much to dust that would take more than five minutes a week.
I think I am at the threshold of something new and exciting. A new phase or chapter. I think I am ready to let go of a lot of baggage that is weighing me down. And not the material kind.
But parting with some of the material possessions would signify what I need to let go of. I think I could draw a deeper breath and feel…lighter.
You get to the point when you have to know something is going to be worth it to hand over your time. Because time is not infinite. The clock never stops. It just keeps ticking along, your life molding itself into a slide show that rushes by before you can even take note of every memory.
You know you’ve stopped many times to smell the roses. But life becomes even more precious and you want to take even more time to do just what your heart desires. To pause at all the little things that make up a day and then is quickly gone.
As one of my very favorite writers, William Faulkner, said: “Clocks slay time… time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.”
I think things happen for a reason. Though I may never know what it is.
I just need to know that I took the deepest breath I could muster. And felt light as a feather for having done so.