Killing the Inner-Pack Rat: Step 4

In Which We Made a Searching and Fearless Moral Inventory of Ourselves

  
Kurt made an incredibly humbling point the other day. He asked: "So, after 20 days of getting rid of 21 things a day, do you notice a difference?"

Um, no (jerk). Not unless you count the difference in my thought patterns when I am at the store and I now assume that anything I buy will be tossed in the near future and so I simply do not bring it home to begin with....unless of course we can eat it, then all bets are off!

I had thought my last few Pack-Rat posts were somewhat inventorial but if I am to be fearless in my searching, then I must admit I have only begun to scratch the surface. What started out as a little humor, poking fun at an un-self-diagnosed issue that I thought needed a little addressing in order to soothe my naturally-minimalist husband's angst, has opened up into an entirely new dimension of self that clearly needs some major pruning. Funny how that works. 

Recently I read that if your household income is just 50 thousand a year, you are in the top 1% of global earners. (If you make just 34k, you are in the top 4% of global earners and those barely making it at the U.S. poverty line? They are in the top 13% of the world's earners, give or take a little depending on where you get your data.) Chew on that for a second. We spent months watching people on the news yell and spout off about the top 1% of our country's earners, often in ways that vilified and condemned them, yet if we broaden the picture just a little to include, say, the rest of the world, well then the majority of Americans contribute to the inequalities that exist among humankind. And when I start to glance inward and really search what is in my own heart and life, it's like the first time a scuba diver swims over the reef and is witness to the incredible colors, rich beauty and abundant life of the world deep down under.....except instead of awe and wonder it's: "Ah hell! Sharks!" Mine happen to be sharks of excess. Which, when you get down to it, means greed has played far too big of a role for far too long. Greed, and um, idolatry.....ouch.

Please take note, I have never thought myself greedy. Very much the opposite actually. I came from an incredibly generous home and I have embraced that heart for giving to others. I don't covet the stuff my friends and acquaintances have, don't try to keep up with neighbors, don't typically care about the latest trends or technological developments, have no need to accessorize or replace things that aren't clearly broken. With the exception of jeans, which I wear everyday until they become Godly jeans (holey-er than thou), I buy clothes maybe once every 3 years or when I can no longer fix the holes. And even then, only when I can get them at rock bottom prices. And I would much rather give than receive. So, how am I claiming greed here? Well, just look at the stuff:

 This is only the first week's worth of donations. It doesn't even include the stuff I threw out because it was worthy of the trashcan alone. The second week was just as bad and included three computers I gave to my friend's genius kids (and there is more where those came from) and my guess is, we will go on like this for much, much longer than 40 days. After all, who needs three crib mattresses when no babies are sleeping in cribs!

So, maybe it isn't greed as much as idolatry. I have unknowingly made idols out of unnecessary junk. I have given worth to worthless objects, held on to things as if they significantly add value to my life when in fact they do just the opposite. Maybe that is why this joke is on me. This 12-step program (that you are welcome to tune out at any time, or better yet, participate in...Woo hoo! Open Meeting!) is actually the very thing that I need in order to drastically change my living to reflect my values. These baby-steps are bound to be life changing, for the entire family. Already I have kids complaining that they have nothing to wear (because we gave it all away.....oh, and because I haven't done the laundry, but who's counting) and I have made mistakes, like getting rid of my one pair of rain tolerant shoes that I rarely wear only to find that I actually needed them today...but then, did I really? I survived (and so have the kids). And slowly, we are letting go of the stuff so that we are no longer being possessed by our possessions.

There's a quote from the movie Fight Club that comes to mind:
"You buy your furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple of years you're satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you've got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you're trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you."

I am tired of being owned by things (and certain fast-approaching marathons, but I'll save that for another post). And I am the only one who can change that. And in doing so, by jumping off the consumption bandwagon and creating a more minimalist life, my little family takes the first tiny step towards ending our contribution to the world's great inequities, regardless of what percentage we land on. And maybe, just maybe, it will help Lily let go of the rock collection....that she SLEEPS WITH!

The Real Parent

My friend Deb, a fellow mom of 5, writes a superb newspaper column called Real Parent. (Click here to check her out on Facebook.) I'm like the first in line to read it and I'm almost sure half of what she writes is actually a great big finger pointing in my general direction, although I will admit to some occasional paranoia. At any rate, I went to drop off some old laptops at her house today. (What's that about one person's trash being another's treasure? I think her genius, computer-programming boys hit the jackpot today, although, they may beg to differ with the missing keys and lack of power sources....beggars can't be choosers boys....although you weren't technically begging, and I should probably thank you for taking them....) At any rate, because of the missing computer keys, the conversation naturally turned to Solomon:

Me: He's a monster I tell you. He watched the window guys all last week and by the end of the week I saw him go over, open up the great room window and crawl right out of it and onto the deck. (You know, because THAT is totally safe in a two story house.) And on Saturday, he ran straight out into the parking lot at soccer and there was nothing I could do to stop him because he was so fast getting those great big warehouse doors open. I spilled coffee all over myself chasing after him.....had there been a car coming he'd have been toast....

Deb (after a brief, contemplative pause): Why don't you go Chinese on him and bind his feet? Then he won't be able to go anywhere.

This is exactly why we are friends, y'all! Now that's a real solution for real parenting! (You'll love her column too, check it out!)

Thanks Deb! I may have to give it a go......googling feet binding now (although I believe total body binding may be more appropriate....actually, maybe I should just get him a cage.....)

Killing the Inner Pack-Rat: Step 3

In Which We Made a Decision to Turn Our Will and Our Lives Over to the Care of God 

as We Understood Him

(If only God were easier to understand!)

You might be thinking this would be the easiest step of all for someone like myself who already believes in God. But even with a working belief in God, turning one's will over or even acknowledging the need to do so, presents a formidable challenge. While it can be difficult and deflating to admit we have a problem, and overwhelming to consider that we too can be restored to sanity, actually turning our will and lives over to God is an entirely different beast. Let go of my control? Are you kidding? I only get this little box to control and I. am. not. letting. it. go! Thankyouverymuch!

Even those of us who already believe in a Power Greater than Ourselves have a hard time truly surrendering. Might I offer for your remembering those law-abiding Pharisees of the "I got this" character, thinking they had made themselves righteous by being so incredibly not like those sinners all around them.....God really digs that attitude...oh wait, no, He doesn't.

Here's me:
I...
  Read spiritual stuff, my shelves are overflowing with the deep and sacred
  Pray a lot (while not aloud for all to hear, certainly more continually than not)
  Try to be a good person, doing the right thing even when it's tough
  Continually seek truth
  Teach our kids about God and living within God's will
  Attempt to be a good steward of the many blessings in my life
  Marvel at the beauty in the world and in people
  Strive to be a good "helpmate"
  Donate to charity
  Participate in church, worship, fellowship
  Try to show love to all God's children, etc., etc., etc.

And here's also me:
I...
  Get short with my family
  Complain inwardly and silently about the tediousness of the drudgery tasks before me
  Throw mercy out the window (probably the same one the two-year old left open AFTER  CRAWLING OUT OF IT!)
  Consciously do a less than generous thing because another mom a Target looked at me with ridicule and expectation (long story, one that ends with our house having a Pass the Pigs game and her house going without....)
  Demand my own way more than I ought
  Don't give the benefit of the doubt to those closest to me
  Hold on to things I don't need, material things other people could find great value in or emotional things that would be better left behind
  Assign blame, point fingers, fail to notice my own flaws and wrongdoings
  Scornfully note the impatience of the young driver rudely tailing the elderly gentleman driving in front of him and only moments later find myself irritated with the "incompetent" driver in front of me
  Buy a cart full of sugary Easter treats, five pounds of granulated sugar and a bag of powered sugar two weeks before I know we are eliminating sugar from our diets, etc., etc., etc.

Um, inconsistent? To say the least! And notice, neither of those lists included the word surrender or anything close to turning my will over to anyone but myself. There is no conscious effort to rely on God anymore than I have to. My prayers are more about thanksgiving than surrender, more about other people's needs than my own, more about patting God on the back for His awesomeness (and, ahem, for mine) than allowing Him access to transform me from the inside out. After all, I got this and I'm so grateful I'm not one of those people who actually need to claim total dependence on something Greater than Themselves. That's for vulnerable, broken people....not me....

But wait, God, as I understand Him, told the self-righteous that he didn't come to save the righteous, that a doctor doesn't come to heal the healthy but the sick, and then he proceeded to surround himself with people who had obvious flaws and deficits and he tried his hardest to point out to the righteous that their need was even greater, that their hearts were in the wrong place. And where God is concerned, heart placement is apparently pretty darn important.

The German writer Goethe said, "Things which matter most should never be at the mercy of things which matter least."

Much of my life has been just that: allowing the things that have little importance outweigh that which is most important; letting the illusion of self-suffiency blind me from the greater choice: a reliance on and true surrender to a Power Greater than Myself. And if God is all I think God is, He will be a far better caretaker of me than I have been! For me, this step is about a daily decision, about consciously letting go of the living I have been doing at the foot of an empty cross where I play the guessing game all by myself, struggling to figure it out on my own and instead embracing the new life that Easter truly offers, the one that we are called to live out, that offers hope and a future and life everlasting. The cross was important but we must not get stuck there.

And so, within this surrender, my Inner Pack-Rat loses it's centralized position in our house as the fruits of the spirit begin to chip away at the fruits of our labor and I begin to understand that spiritual fruits should never be at the mercy of material fruits, that God's role in my life should never be at the mercy of anything, especially not my self.

As the old hymn goes:
Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Happy Easter.

Killing the Inner Pack-Rat: Step Two

In Which We Came to Believe That a Power Greater Than Ourselves Could Restore Us To Sanity

Well shoot, I sure as heck hope so because if a Power Greater Than Ourselves can't help us then we are all toast!

This second step got me thinking: many, if not all, of the major religions and spiritual practices of the world offer valuable insight into accumulated stuff, its power over us and the importance of freeing ourselves from this bondage. Like it or not, we live in a culture of greed and excess. And it isn't just "them," those "others," the "1%ers" or whatever some might think. It is all of us. If you are reading this blog, you probably have more than you need......like time to read this blog.... Hello? Shouldn't you be working or something? Heck, I know I am neglecting something just thinking about this! (The cat just informed me it is his dinner I am neglecting. Silly cat, doesn't he know I got rid of his dinner as one of today's 21 things?) But I digress. While I can't cover all variations of this Greater Power, let's see just how our sanity might be restored by It, shall we?

Starting with what practice I know best, I am confident Jesus would be quite displeased with our excess here in the U.S., my house included. I am pretty sure that when he said if you have two coats, give one away, that he actually meant it; not only because he wanted us to be generous but he probably truly didn't think we need so many coats...because obviously he didn't live here in Minnesota and clearly had no idea what he was talking about! (Silly, Jesus.) But seriously, when he told us not to lay up for ourselves treasure here on earth, this was a pretty direct statement that we need not gather more and more possessions, so many that we forget what we have and go buy more the same stuff or start running out of space to contain it all. And he also really meant what he told us, that where our treasure is, there our heart will be also. I am 100% sure that my heart is better off with God and those I love than it is packed away in a box with a hundred useless trophies from the first 18 years of my life. God can actually make good use of a heart like mine (and yours, too), if only I am willing to take it out of the box. So perhaps Jesus was onto something when he told us to sell our possessions and give to the needy because when we finally get around to getting rid of our junk (and stop spending money on junk to replace it!) and use the free space/time/money to help others, we are one step closer toward restoring our sanity. Come to think of it, Jesus said a whole lot about this. And I'll be the first to admit that I have personally glossed over those particular passages because certainly they apply to those "other" people who are greedy and have way too many things, not someone like myself who just has, um, way too many things......ahem....

In Luke, Jesus says: “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” Amen, Jesus. So, I'm pretty sure he was talking to me....and I am pretty sure he means it is time to let go of my abundance and replace it with more meaningful life.....and it is up to me, to us actually, to either respond positively or to walk away sad like the rich man in Matthew 19 who "had great wealth"....a story that ends with Jesus confirming our second step by saying, "With man this is impossible but with God all things are possible." It is a Power greater than ourselves that restores us to sanity, not our own doing. (Thank God because I was certain to go crazy trying to do it myself!)

Similar to the Hindu belief that there are three gateways to hell (lust, wrath and greed), in Buddhism, greed (or the selfish desire of, or attempt to possess something that is beyond personal need) is one of the Three Poisons that leads to evil and suffering. (The other two are anger/hatred and ignorance/delusion.) And get this, in Buddhist tradition, at the center of the Wheel of life are a snake, representing hate; a pig, representing ignorance; and what could possibly represent greed? A ROOSTER! So. Darn. Fitting. Dang it! According to Buddhist tradition, the three of them combined keep us bound to samsara, the cycle of birth, death and rebirth, which apparently is like being held in the hamster wheel of bondage, so, kind of a bad thing. The word they use for this suffering is dukkah. You don't want to get stuck in dukkah. You just don't.

But Karen, you argue, I have a lot of stuff but I don't think that means I am greedy. After all, most of it came from gifts and hand me downs and really great sales!

Ok, you and Pig just keep thinking that. Let me know how that works for you. But you might want to know that smug ol' Rooster over there is cock-a-doodling through your dukkah.... 

The bottom line, if you have more than you need, too many coats in your closet or clothes in your wardrobe, if you can call a charity pick-up after a week of purging and decluttering and know that you will need two or three more pick-ups (my hand is raised here), chances are greed is somewhere in the mix. And maybe delusion. I don't know for sure but I am willing to bet it's tough to get off the cycle of samsara with so much excess. Which is why a Power greater than ourselves really comes in handy here.....

In the Muslim faith, the third Pillar is called Zakat, which means purification, specifically, purifying one's heart from greed. They believe that wealth is a gift from God and that it is a human's natural inclination to love and even hoard wealth. They believe it takes God's help for a person to part with some of his wealth which is why they require the payment of zakat (or 2.5% of a person's wealth and assets). And that of course got me thinking: shoot, only 2.5%? They get off easy compared to Jews and Christians who are commanded to tithe 10%.....but when I told Kurt maybe we should reconsider our faith, he reminded me that giving 2.5% would be an increase for us....insert tail between legs and doh! Watch out for that dukkah! 

I'll have to address that issue after I finish the purging though because really, there is only so much a girl can handle...perhaps this is where that higher Power comes in.....it's too bad that my Higher Power didn't intercede BEFORE I started writing this post!

Slight Oversight?

Dear God,

I know you have a lot on your plate. What, with the wars and poverty, murders and crime, the widows, widowers, orphans, the hungry, the starving, and the politicians, the mental heath issues and drug addictions and great sadnesses, the physical injuries, cancer, disease, and all that healing and guiding and listening to the whining of the fortunate and the cries and groans of the meek and weary and marginalized and your disappointment with some of us and your love for humans, times like 7 billion, and your hope for our future and well, trust me when I say I understand how you might have missed a memo or two, perhaps haven't glanced at your calendar in a while. So, I thought I would humbly offer you a gentle reminder that today is the first day of spring. Isn't that wonderful? Yet when I looked at my outdoor thermometer this morning, it was only 4 degrees outside.

Please don't think I am complaining. I understand very well that the record low for March here in the upper midwest is somewhere in the negative 30s. I was just wondering however, if you might crank it up a notch....maybe give us 20 or 30 more degrees, or 60......because, you see God, we are having windows replaced in our house and while I realize it is a blessing that I can even write that, that I have a house with a gazillion windows and that I can afford to replace them, well, on the first day of the replacement it snowed. And then today it is so cold I am in two coats while standing in my kitchen.....because while they are really fast at getting the windows out of the walls, the putting new ones in part seems to be a very, very slow and tedious process. (I am beginning to think they are paid by the hour.) It is now only 50 degrees inside my house. On the first day of spring. And they just opened all the doors in the house so that the air pressure doesn't change while they are putting windows in 15 feet up which could make the workers and the new windows fall out the huge holes in the wall.....and while that isn't the same emergency as say the freezing homeless on our streets and the chemical warfare they are fearing over seas, well, it kinda stinks for us right now, here in the arctic spring of MN.

So, if you think of it, in the midst of your divine busy-ness, maybe you could offer a little less sunny but extreme cold and a tad more springtime warmth?

And if not, I totally get it. We are kind of low on the totem priority pole. And we kind of prefer it that way actually. So, come to think of it, scratch that. Let's just call it even and you have a nice day in eternity.

Much Love,
The Graceful Chicken

P.S. Next time a contractor says they can put windows in even though it is going to be cold and snowy, that is it "no problem," please give us a gentle nudge reminding us that it might not be a problem for them but for us, well, it might just be a slight headache. You know, like the migraine kind.

In Case You Think I'm Kidding

It occurred to me after my last Solomon post that you might think I am just being overly dramatic,  exaggerating the extent to which he makes trouble. Let me assure you, I am paying time for every last judgmental thought I have ever had about any ones else's parenting. Karma comes full circle. Every. Time.

To those friends and strangers out there with feral children: I get it now. I am sorry if I ever looked at you with that silently judging eye....you know what I am talking about. When your kid dumped the cat food into the litter box or climbed up onto the piano keys to practice jumping, I know it isn't because you haven't tried. I realize now that you are as good as they come and yet somehow, maybe because of an awkward moon phase or too many stars misaligning with dwarf planets, you gave birth to a human-like beast and you are simply doing the best with the hand you were dealt. So, you resign yourself to the chasing and picking-up and heavy sighs and a few extra glasses of wine each week because you are raising something far more savage and barbaric than the average mom deals with. I am so, so sorry for any scorn you may have felt. Rest assured, I get it now.

So, the pastor at my church has a nephew who she says is a bit like Solomon: very inquisitive.

Isn't that nice? So much kinder than the words I would choose. This is why she is the minister; she knows how to dish out grace, heaping it on where all I choose to see is chaos and destruction and OW! matchbox cars dropping on my head from the staircase above....SOLLY!

I would argue however, that this goes beyond simple inquisitiveness. You know that scene in Singing in the Rain where Gene Kelly is tap dancing with his umbrella and he starts splashing the water in the gutter with one foot? Yeah, imagine Solomon on top of my piano reenacting that scene, only it looks less like tap dancing and more like the bar scene in Pete's Dragon where the people in the bar are singing "A dragon, a dragon, he says he saw a dragon" and as they are drunkenly dancing on top of the bar they start kicking all the beer bottles off the counter and onto the floor, making a huge, smelly mess.

There had been music where he was standing.....

Now folks, contrary to what some may believe, I do not run a circus here. But apparently I am bringing up one of their kin. Or one of their animals, I am not sure which. I suppose this is what I get for having pulled him down FROM THE CHANDELIER in the dining room only moments before! I may never get to the dishes again. Sorry sinks and toilets but you will have to wait, too! And welcome all ye dust. Just settle right in and make yourself comfy as I won't be attending to you until 2020-something....

Even more recently than this, I heard crying in the basement. It was a fairly terrified cry so I went down to investigate. The door to the laundry room was locked but when I went to check the utility room where a light was on, no one was there. The crying was coming from inside the dark, locked laundry room. I got the key down from where we hang it, went in and found Solomon standing on top of the washing machine.

"What the??? How did you even get in here?" I asked as I scooped him up into a big hug.

Later, as I was folding the clothes, I turned around and there he was again:

Yes, that would in fact be the Clorox that he is resting his hand on.....

 "Solly, really?" I took him down and then a minute later I caught him in action:

You can see his little face looking through the tiny hole that he is using to sneak in from the utility room.

He apparently has been hanging out with the cat too much and has learned all the cat's secrets. I knew their friendship was going to be trouble! And yes, those are two big electrical outlets for him to go through (right under the Clorox Clean-Up) in order to climb onto the machine.....I can't see this being a problem really, I mean, it's not like he loves electrical cords or pouring stuff out or anything.....

Sigh. Inquisitive is only the tip of the iceberg.

Killing the Inner Pack-Rat: Step One

Step One in Which We Admitted We Were Powerless Over Clutter - That Our Lives Had Become Unmanageable

First thing first: I married the antithesis of a pack rat. From early on in childhood, he would do semi-regularly clean-outs of his room, spending hours sorting through and throwing stuff away. My understanding is that his brothers would often wait patiently outside his bedroom door, ready and waiting to go through his unwanted treasures. I can't really look at them without thinking about vultures.

Meanwhile, way down yonder, I spent hours stuffing all my dearest toys, most of which I didn't play with (some of which I didn't recognize), into my closet until it was so full the door would only stay shut with a chair wedged under the knob.

I can recall the time I took my grandfather by the hand, showed him my treasure-filled closet and asked:

"Grandpa, how many toys do you think I have?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe a hundred?" he replied. (I now know he was most likely cringing from the pain such excess caused his soul....it might have been the beginning of his heart issues, I'm not sure.)

"And how many do you think I play with?" I asked.

"Well, I don't know. I suppose all of them," he said.

"Nope. None of them," I declared, slamming the door shut (and wedging the chair back under the knob). I am not proud of my utterly spoiled 5 year old self, not in the least.

At any rate, while I have been chained to my stuff from a significantly early age, my husband is incredibly unbound to material possessions. His idea of a great time is scouring closets and rooms and entire houses looking for anything and everything that is unnecessary and then tossing them into the trash. This process, which produces enough anxiety to force me into hiding in whatever closet has the majority of my stuff, acts like an opiate to Kurt, soothing his soul, smoothing out the rough edges, calming the intensity of his somewhat overactive cortisol gland (you may think there is no such thing but I promise you, he has one).  And while I am fairly certain he won't rid himself of things like his wedding ring or lawn mower, or his legs, I can honestly say that very little is safe from this obsessive drive to rid his life, our lives, of clutter. Sometimes I feel like even the kids and I are on the chopping block the moment we stop being useful. Watch out cat, your time's far overdue!

I, on the other hand, need no less than a twelve-step program to set me right again. Today, in attempt to clean out some of my junk room -- I'm almost embarrassed to admit I even have such a room but it doubles as my sewing room....and computer room, music library and instrument room, picture/scrapbooking/baby book library, ironing room, picture room, floppy-disk storage space (you know, for computers we no longer have), etc. etc. in other words, Kurt's worst nightmare -- I threw out an entire drawer full of free travel brochures and catalogs that I had requested over two years ago in case we ever took a real family vacation to Never-heard-of-it-Land, Midwest. They had been completely untouched, right next to the two drawers wedged full of plaques and awards from middle school and high school....and let's be honest, elementary school! Seriously, who keeps that stuff? It's almost a sickness.

But this week, I have been consumed by the desire to live more simply, to purge our life of the unnecessary, to make room for emptiness and not to fill it up again with random, unfulfilling things because by doing so, we leave no space for creativity, for relational experiences, for the holy and sacred. I don't know if it's because of the book I am reading for a second time this week (7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker) or if it is something that has been building for a while and this book has just opened the flood gate, but I do know that my desire to teach my kids about the things we value and to steer them away from excessiveness, from the "more is better" mentality that pervades so much of our suburban world and the American culture, is at the forefront of my mind.

So much so that last night I cleared out half my closet. Your welcome, Goodwill. You too, Kurt.

But, while Kurt is the perfect storm for deforestation of our home, I am full of sentiment, reservation, what-if thinking; the concerned citizen who opposes the controlled burn even though the prescribed burn is what creates a more optimal forest floor and minimizes the risk of catastrophic wildfire! Kurt worries about the clutter overtaking us while I worry that we may get rid of that one super important thing that has a 0.001% chance of being needed ten years from now by a child our neighbor hasn't even conceived yet. It's a problem.

A couple weeks back, Kurt held up a single black ski glove and asked the simple question: Does this have a match? I balked. If I told him the truth, that I didn't know where the other one was, he'd throw it. If I argued that I was still looking (for over a year now), he'd probably still throw it. I breathed deep to unclinch my jaw and told him the other one was missing and then closed my eyes as I heard the glove land with a thunk in the trashcan. And people, wouldn't you know, not more than two days later I found the match! The regret in the pit of my stomach was like no other. I wanted nothing more than to go ripping apart the trash cans but since that was the week of the plague, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt careless.....someone could have used those. We could have donated them. We could have given them back to their rightful, ten year old owner who can't seem to keep a pair of gloves intact to save his life. I thought of the waste, of the expense, of the cruelty (seriously, how did I not find it until two days too late!?) Meanwhile, Kurt's heart was a wee bit more joyful from holding onto one less thing. I imagined his spirits uplifted and his stress lightening and slowly, slowly it assuaged my grief.

I clearly have a lot to learn and lot more to undo because certainly this kind of living is the beginning of a person's unraveling. I'm jumping in full speed ahead though, under the assumption that it isn't too late to live the life we really want to be living.

And to those of you who have ever given our children anything, ever, they do not need anything else ever again. Outside of school uniforms, they will need exactly zero things. We have far too many things now and I predict even after this exercise of scaling back, we will still have far more things than we actually need. And if any of them ever asks you how many toys you think they have? Tell them too many and walk away quickly before they start begging you to buy them chairs. And door knobs.