Setting Up & Homecoming

We've been in our new neighbourhood, James Bay, for 19 days now. Blogging hasn't been a priority due to these events...

Written at the base of the Terry Fox Statue at Mile 0 in Beacon Hill Park

Because our 17 ft van was soooo loaded we've been de-cluttering and getting rid of things. After-all, 2 businesses got packed up as well as personal stuff. And it all has to fit into a 2 bedroom apartment as we downsize from a 3 bedroom + garage with full basement all with ample storage.

Ah storage space, the great deceiver, lulled me into thinking that I possessed little. It was just tucked away and forgotten. Though we're not consumers, 27 years has given us plenty of time to accumulate. A little thing here and a little thing there, it all adds up to a sh**load of stuff.

Boxes full of stuff have gone to the Salvation Army; more is yet to follow. Some of Rod's stuff will go to good use when we donate it to Habitat for Humanity. 3 boxes of books await delivery to a second hand bookshop in hopes that they can overlook those that are earmarked, underlined and filled with notes in the margins... pretty much all of them.

I've allotted myself 1 bookcase to house my most treasured books. Though Kindle fulfills much of my desire to own material I still love the look and feel of the printed page!

Lugging this stuff all the way across country wasn't a mistake. Surprisingly, what seemed essential from my Burlington life's vantage point changed the instant we got here confirming that I actually am starting  a new phase of my life. Who knows where it will lead? I only know that I have to be a whole lot less encumbered in order for it to really take off. As things drop away I'm feeling lighter and lighter.

There will be more de-cluttering over the next few weeks: slides and photos need to be consolidated; 3 boxes of letters and cards (down from 4) carted back and forth from B.C. to Ontario over the years are waiting to be re-read, let go or kept; and the 4 boxes of Christmas decorations were too much to get into before we left.

4 boxes of mine - 2 small and 2 huge ones remained unexplored, filled with God knows what unessentials. I got into all but the biggest one today and miracle of miracles it all fits into the cabinet that Rod made me. The rule is if I don't love it, it's gone. Hmm, still loving a fair bit...we've got great storage in this place - yikes!

Exhausted little girl

Flippy and Maya arrived on the Mon the 12th thanks to the efforts to Pam and Morgie (her handsome grey and white longhaired cat) aka Special Air Freight Agent and Crew. Pam picked them up from the Cats' Castle, gave Flippy a shoulder to snuggle and Maya pats to soothe, put them up for the night and arose at some ungodly hour the next morning to chauffeur them to the airport for 6a.m. Via cel phone she gave me a play by play of the events as they unfolded. I slept on our couch in the living room so as not to disturb Rod with her early morning reports.

Upon coming home, the girls slinked around the apartment for a good while. Then Flippy disappeared for 90 minutes. I couldn't find hide nor hair of her and it was freaking me out. To calm and assure myself I kept repeating the mantra, She didn't get out, she's in here somewhere. And just like magic she walked out of a closet I'd checked umpteen times.

Later, out of the corner of my eye, I caught her squeezing herself through an opening, seemingly half of her girth in width, in the kick under the kitchen cupboards. One leg and her tail were all that I had to grab in order to haul her outta there.

It was all too much stimulation for her so I wrapped her up in a blankie, sat on the bathroom floor with her and closed the door. Feeling secure once more she was out for a few hours while I read.

Yin and Yang - Maya finds consolation with Flippy

Maya, intrepid explored that she is, seemed unscathed. But while we watched TV she crashed behind me, laying on the back of the couch for the rest of the night.

The rest of the time we were: visiting and exploring the city and some choice restaurants with Rod's sister and her hubby who were in town for a few days and staying at a nearby hotel, exploring the hood and doing all that needs doing when one changes residence from Ontario to B.C.

Once the B.C. license plates were put on my car it felt official...WE LIVE HERE!

This act will soon be obsolete!

I have this habit of noticing, and collecting, garbage when I go out on hikes in nature. I can't help myself.  The very idea of someone littering here (or even in the concrete jungle) I find is absolutely disgusting and disrespectful of the earth.

© Nance Thacker 1990
click on image to enlarge

However, this doesn't make me the most enjoyable hiking partner as, distracted from the beauty around me, I unself-consciously break into a full fledged rant or at the very least, emit a "tsk tsk" of disgust until I am brought back to my senses by: the sound of a passing bird, the whiff of a flower, the wind and sun's warmth upon my skin or the broader view of the glory in which I'm privileged to walk.

Sunday's "Just 4 2day B a Tourist Day" day was no different, except for the fact that all I collected during my 90 minute hike/picture taking venture was:
- 1 plastic take out coffee cup with lid
- 1 straw
- 1 piece of plastic about 3 inches long
- bits of labels
- 1 clump of rolled up plastic wrap
- 1 blue lid sans the plastic container it was meant for

Lovely litter-free babbling brook
at the base of the cliffs
THANKS TO FELLOW HIKERS AND CLIMBERS

With no garbage containers present I was astounded to see that everyone I encountered had a day pack with which to pack their "stuff" out! All the items, but for the plastic coffee cup and lid, were most likely unintentionally dropped along the way.

It left me with such a great sense of hope and pride in humanity to realize that, maybe even in my lifetime, picking up someone else's garbage will become an obsolete act.

Have a great day NOT SHOPPING!

Further in this post you will find a video titled STORY OF STUFF; HOW THINGS WORK, ABOUT STUFF by Anne Leonard. Though the video's over 20 minutes long, it's well worth taking the time to listen to what she has to say about our consumer culture and its effects on humanity, the earth, sea and sky. Plus, I really like the simple style of animation that she uses to get her point across — very effective.

STUFF BECOMES CRAP.

Now, I've got my share of "stuff", that's to be sure, after all, as human beings we are all virtual waste producing machines and I'm not just talking about the stuff that exits our orifices. There's also the "crap" that we buy into which propels us to buy crap, tire of it, tuck it away or throw it out so that we can buy more crap and on and on.

WHY ARE WE SO DRIVEN TO GET STUFF? CUS, IT FEELS SO GOOD... FOR A WHILE AT LEAST.

I find it amazing how a prized item that has given me such pleasure in: hunting it down; purchasing it (there's the real pay off — that big rush of satisfaction and accomplishment that is anticipated from the moment the flame of desire is a mere spark of inspiration); the using, wearing or eating of it, eventually becomes "stuff" to be stored or "crap" to be gotten rid of. More often than not, the very moment we attain our object of desire, is the beginning of its decline in favour.

MARKETING, ADVERTISING AND THE POWER OF SUBTLE (OR NOT SO SUBTLE) SUGGESTIONS THAT WE'RE BOMBARDED WITH 24/7 - FUELS OUR DESIRE FOR STUFF. SEE LEONARD'S "YOU SUCK" CYCLE OF CONSUMER DESIRE.

These three examples stand out for me:

The notion that you can "save money" by spending money sends the message that saving money is good; the reality is that this isn't the way to do it. Reality check — once it's spent it's gone, I don't care how good a deal you got, besides what are you going to do with the money you "saved" but, buy more "stuff".

After declining to sign up for a department store's BONUS POINTS CARD (explaining that I'm a hit and run, not a browsing, type of shopper) the cherry toddle-oo the cashier gave me was, "Have a great day shopping". Have a great DAY shopping? Is she nuts? Was she listening at all? You want me to have a great day? I just got my "stuff" now get me outta here. Time spent browsing is too much time spent in "you suck" territory; too much time spent in temptation's lair. Hey, I'm not immune.

And, one of my faves is this motto "Be seen. Be seen shopping," the Oakville equivalent of counting coup found emblazoned on promotional banners throughout the town a few Christmases ago.

If I sound a little judgmental, a little self-satisfied it's because, except for a few exceptions (knitting, sporting supply stores, One of a Kind Craft Show, a really great grocery store), I really don't like to shop. For the most part, shopping makes me anxious. Some people are "stuff" people and some are "experience" people. I'm the latter. Let me: travel and explore the outdoors and new places, indulge in the fare of a great restaurant, sit in a cafe (preferably in Paris) and watch the world go by, take time to write, read and play and I'm happy. But Leonard's video reminds me that everything I do taxes the earth and our resources. My purchases, well thought out as they may be; the requirements of the activities I enjoy, all take their toll.

I'm not sure what to do with all this. I just know that awareness is the spark to inspiration and maybe if enough people become inspired, creative ways in being in the world (while minimizing the damage we cause, or even giving back to it) may be discovered and what a wonderful world that would be!

Treasures in the most unlikely of places

As you can see, I was doing dishes the other day when suddenly I was moved to take this picture. I was doing the last bit of cleaning up the day after a great New Year's Eve shared with council members Glyn & Pam and their spouses. I was in a "good space" where all is right in the world; a moment of contentment. At that moment I realized how all these things I was washing give me great pleasure not only to look at but for the memories they hold.

We filled the crystal wine glasses, from my parents' collection, with champagne which we used to toast in the New Year. In my parents' day it was Sherry but no matter. A few Christmases ago  Rod and my Christmas gift to each other was this set of colourful plates to make our settings cheerful and fun. The white one tucked in behind we bought as a one off in Yorkville a few years prior, again a Christmas purchase. It was pricy, needs to be hand washed but is a lovely plate for presentation of treats. The blue-green bowl reminds me of earthy things and I purchased at the One of a Kind in Dec - a memento of a fabulous time had by Di and myself.

The little ceramic pot beside it, Rod and I found in the pottery section of the craft marketplace silo in St Jacobs when we were first together. I like to mix spices, smell them and adjust them in the little pot before throwing them in the cooking pot as my Indian house-mate Jaya did when teaching me how to make curry during my university days. Tucked in front of it is a less showy but equally serviceable stainless steel cup that I also use for that purpose which reminds me of my many restaurant stints, especially my time at Jasper Park Lodge.

On the edge of the sink is the basket for my coffee maker. I just got it about 2 years ago and it comes out whenever friends come to visit. Before this I'd take everyones order and enlist a guest to go for a coffee run with me to the Tim's on the corner. 3 stones plucked from the shores of Lake Huron are nestled into the corner reminding me of the power of mindfulness, love, healing, council friends and Florence's place up north.

The ladle, from One of a Kind years back, reminds me of many wonderful outings I've had with friends. It hangs along with other fine serviceable pieces from the same artisan, creating an ever changing glistening piece of wall art when not in use and shows up especially beautifully against the tile on the wall; a work in progress. Rod and I picked them up a few weeks ago and he got only so far before the holiday celebrations began. A contractor's place is often in various stages of completion. I'm told tomorrow will be the day work resumes. I love the subtle multi-colours in the stone. 

We don't have a lot of "stuff" but I'm fortunate that all of these things continue to give me great pleasure and I am grateful to have not only them, but the memories and messages they contain. 

It's a simple thing, but sometimes simple is fantastic!

SEARCHING FOR THE DALI LAMA

Rod and I are in the midst of a major de-cluttering. Actually Rod, finding some time on his hands, has gotten into a de-clearing frenzy and, he keeps trying to drag me into it.

Isn't it amazing how your stuff is "my stuff" and others' stuff is "your s**t"...I think that's fodder for another post, anyway...

Rod is tackling some of our "stuff" and this phase involves scanning photos into his PC which is all well and good, but he wants to turf the originals and this has me gasping for air - the same reaction you all experienced, no doubt, when I told you in this post that in the summer of '97 I'd burned all my diaries.

Somehow looking at photos on a screen isn't the same as flipping through a photo album. It lacks that tactile sense, the feeling that, not only have I thumbed over these pictures many, many times before but that others I know and love, have too. We've sat together on the couch together, poured over them and shared stories contained within the images. I don't know if I'm ready for the screen version complete with captions and "slide shows".

But I've given him the go-ahead but have asked that he put all the pictures aside for a joint effort, one evening, culling. We did this very successfully a few years ago. All the photos that had been thrown randomly into multiple shoe boxes and hermetically sealed for decades got spread out on the coffee table in batches. Only the choice ones, those that rendered the best images or captured the most complete and fondest memories, were kept. We probably did away with 2/3rds of them and it felt good to have photos that were gems clearly in view, not buried amongst shots of: people with their heads cut off, overexposed sunrises and underexposed sunsets, crowds of nameless individuals in mystery locations, thumbs, grandchildren of long forgotten acquaintances and the like.

But now he wants to tackle the sacred ground of photo albums - gulp.

Check Melissa P's comment on the same post. Anytime she let something go inevitably she found a need or desire for it so she often regretted the purge. That's never happened to me except once upon a time; a few months ago to be exact...

I was experiencing a clutter purging high. Everything was going and I was in rapture as I donated items to the Salvation Army Store, The Reuse Centre and Variety Village. I felt lighter than air.

A few weeks later I went to make payment on an item; Rod and I were splitting the cost 50/50. So I pulled out my Visa for my portion and then dug into a seldom used section of my wallet to fish out the joint Visa (which I consider is his card as I so rarely use it) and I didn't get a nibble! A few beads of sweat appeared on my brow but I calmed myself with these thoughts - no worries you probably put it in the safe place when you were away a few weeks ago and never returned it to its rightful place. Just go home and look for it.

So with that I put the item on hold, trotted off home, looked in the safe place and...it wasn't there. I'm starting to hyperventilate - no worries. Just borrow Rod's, make the purchase and do a full search when you are calm. I can't remember what story I used to procure the card from him without arousing suspicion, but let's just say that I was successful and leave it at that.

Purchase made, I returned home and proceeded to turn the place upside down, items were strewn everywhere, drawers were left half opened, doors ajar, papers scattered as my sense of panic rose. It looked like a break and enter. It was so bad the kitties were getting nervous - Ooo something's different. Change, change, too much change, their little minds were thinking. Poops and furballs were brewing.

And suddenly I heard my Dad's voice, "Where was it when you had it last?"

"Well, if I could remember that I'd know where it was, wouldn't I." was my stock response.  He actually meant - "Where was it when you remembered having it last?", but somehow it never came out right.

But that little trip down memory lane was enough to jar my brain. Wait a minute. Where is the photo card of the Dali Lama? You see my sister gave it to me after seeing him in Toronto a few years ago and I have since had the pleasure too so the card's very special to me... and I always carry it in my other wallet... The Dali Lama's missing too!

Wallet, wallet, where is your wallet. Then it dawned on me, I donated a few old purses in the clutter busting. OMG, I DONATED MY WALLET! It must have been tucked into one of them!

To make an even longer story much shorter let me summarize by telling you that:

• I had to fess up to Rod when I cancelled the VISA (unbeknownst to both of us), while at that very moment he was making a purchase on said VISA. Let me tell you it was not a happy camper that came through the door to witness me pacing amongst the bedlam that posed as our abode.
• Like a crazed animal I retraced my steps and sniffed out all the places I'd left my stuff, to no avail.

AND...

• Just a week ago, months after receiving the new VISA cards, I found the wallet on a shelf (that I glance upon a few times every friggin' day), sitting at eye level no less, with the Dali Lama smiling compassionately out at me as plain as the nose on my face. How my brain never registered these sightings remains a mystery to me. 

So my advice to you all is beware the clutter busting high otherwise you too could be searching for the Dali Lama. 

computer play

OK - I got this image in by using the old PC and HP scanner and camera wizard. Scanned it in and posted it using the PC and now I'm on the MAC entering in this text. I don't dare touch it in case it disappears and I'll have to do the whole thing over again.

I cut up the panels and entered this one right side up on the scanner bed, but wasn't able to manipulate it on the PC.

Help on Blogger takes an age; lots of time spent sorting out a bazillion comments and recommendations. So I will be using trial and error and recording my findings over the next while until I can enlist someone's help. A friend of mine has offered up her son's help though I don't know if he knows it yet, we'll see.

And the text isn't moving around the picture as I'm entering it...OK it just made a liar out of me, but that doesn't mean that it's going to appear this way in the post.

We'll see, I'll be right back...

I'm back. The text wasn't wrapped around but should be in the next few lines or so. Umm, hmm, hmm...so, how are you doing? I'm doing OK myself. The day's cold, overcast and there's been some rain but other than that I can't complain.

OK it should have wrapped around by now, I'll be right back...

Yup, it wrapped around beginning with the "I'm back" line.

Well, at least the photo problem seems sorted out as you can see by the posts I've entered since Da Agony of De Feet. And, you know the odd thing is all of a sudden I just got it. I don't know how or what "it" was, but I can now even move the pics around the text. So, maybe this is how learning this stuff happens and some morning I'll wake up and... EUREKA ... excuse me I'll be right back...

Oh, I just discovered that back there, that change in text which came up on the blog. This is new to me; very cool.

As I was saying, maybe one day I'll wake up and just be able to scan and enter the cartoons in without a thought because my conscious mind has given up the ghost and let the subconscious put all the pieces together while I've been in dream land. Many huge scientific discoveries were made this way so it could happen (I'll tell you more about this fact later).

So, I probably should go. I'm working on de-cluttering my time and my mind which means: spending the minimum amount of time on something in order to get the maximum results, uni-tasking, following up on a sort of schedule/goal list and distracting my mind with positive action to counteract negative rumination.

Have a great day all! OOOps, good timing, my timer just went off, computer time is over and it's time to move on to another commitment.

Spring has sprung!

Spring is sprung

the grass is riz

I wonder where dem

boidies is

SPRING IN THE BRONX

by Anon

Well I know where they is!

The noisy brats (normally I love nature and all of her creatures) were all outside my window at 5 a.m. this morning, causing Maya to rediscover her wild side. Massive "brrrritting" and tearing about of kitty feet insued: over me, onto the window sill, down the stairs to the living room window, up the stairs, over me, onto the window sill and on and on like some kind of blurry, furry, rubber-on-the-road-free, gas-free Indy 500. Flippy seemed

unaware and, unlike me, continued journeying in the land of nod - lucky little sod.

I finally gave up, got up and began looking (yes, we're talkin' bout before 7a.m.) to no avail, for a cartoon I did years ago that would be very appropriate for today. Though I was unable to unearth it I did find:

- the cables and booklet to the TOMTOM that died (this announcement may be premature - won't know til Rod checks it out) in ALF W a few weeks ago. I had conveniently put them in a ziplock bag on the top shelf of a storage unit in the office. Logic told me we'd just have to bend down and look and voila there it would be. No such luck. In typical fashion I couldn't find it til I wasn't looking for it anymore.

- a stash of old cartoons and PMT's I forgot I had. I don't know what PMT stands for. It is old technology. I was trying to put together a book in the early '90's but ran out of steam as it was so time consuming and daunting a task that I became overwhelmed. A PMT was a photo reproduction process that enabled you to resize the images and cut and paste them into your layout and resulted in a clear, crisp image. Do I feel ancient or what?

- old YOGA CENTRE OF VICTORIA NEWSLETTERS compiled into 2 book set, which sent me down memory lane as I leafed through the pages.

And, then I decided to take some photos of the garden and of a bouquet of flowers that Di tastefully arranged for us last night as I was preparing a non-traditional lasagna Easter dinner for she, Roger, Austin, Linda, Rod and I.

All in all it was a very productive extra few hours. But, maybe tonight as I hit the sack I'll keep the window closed.

De-Queen of De-clutter

My sister-in-law crowned me De-Queen of de-clutter as I'm clearing out yet more clutter from my physical space and my mind.

TOILETRIES:

I’m running low on body lotions and shampoo. Naturally I want to go out and buy some more but lo and behold when I opened up my linen closet there they were stacks of toiletries: complimentary free samples received with the purchase of other items, tubes of partially used foot care products and most numerous of all - toiletries collected from hotels and motels over the years. Some, as you see in the basket on the left have been sitting "artfully" on top of the toilet - only they just look like clutter when you get down to it. The other basked I pulled out from the closet and there's still more in there. I just kept adding to the pile – so what better time to start using them than now. Actually, it’s kind of fun and makes me feel pampered using these gifts kindly provided by the hospitality industry. In a few more weeks I’ll need to replenish my stock either by purchasing more or going away for another weekend vacation.

UPDATE – JUGGLING CLUBS:

The back of my car no longer contains my juggling clubs - it took a lot of mind play to finally let them go. I kept remembering, with great fondness, the happy time around their purchase. Corny as it seems, Rod secured his first date with me using the pick up line “so, can you teach me how to juggle?” He got the idea when he saw me juggling for my future nephews and their parents; Rog (his brother) ask if I could teach his Beaver troop (Canadian version of the cub scouts, I think) to juggle. I agreed to take on both tasks. I had great success teaching the kids and Rod is finding that living with me is a constant juggling act.

But, the clubs needed to fly, not be relegated to being a decorative fixture in my house or ballast for my car. I dropped them off to the Burlington Re-use Centre and a few days later an 8-year old girl discovered them, begged and finally convinced her parents to buy them for her. Because, battered and scuffed as they were, she’d fallen in love with a dream. It was at that very moment that young, unfortunately named, Latisha LeFlamme’s life took a fateful turn from a pre-destined lifetime as a stripper working the seedy bars of Yonge street in Toronto to become the most popular headlining, juggling act of all time in Vegas. You can see her there in 2022. Can’t miss her billboard – she’s the one with flaming red hair, dressed in tails and black tights covering legs that seem to go on forever.

So knowing that Latisha is on track with her true destiny, due in no small part to me giving the clubs away, I breathe a sigh of relief.

MENTAL CLUTTER:

I am facing my greatest fears and therefore ridding myself of mental clutter that creates resistance and keeps me from moving ahead. While working on the Mac the Time Machine was telling me that I needed to backup my files and was prompting me to do so. My finger hovered over the cancel option when I asked myself if not now, when? When will I be more willing to face this? NEVER! Not now and not ever. So I did.

A big Ho’oponopono to Derek the technical support guy who had to deal with me.

“I’m totally new to all of this. I mean I really, really don’t know a word that you’ll be saying to me. It is a like you’re going to be teaching me a new language… just warning you. O.K.?” And he was O.K. with it and it was O.K. too.

After something that went like this,

“No I’m sorry Derek. I know what you’re telling me but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for.

If Time Machine will do it all for me do I really need this little box? …I do… it’s called a hard drive. O.K

I should see an icon of the hard drive on my desktop; ummm…what does it look like? Like a hard drive, oh you mean like the little box thingy. O.K. ... nope, nothing… And, my desktop is what exactly?

I need to turn it on? I thought it was on. No, it doesn’t have any lights or buttons…Oh wait, that thing, is that a button? They hide it really well don’t they?

Oh, is that what that’s for? Wait, wait I heard it. I think its working. Yup, there it goes. Oh, and there’s the icon too…"

Poor Derek. But I can hear the smile in his voice as he tells me they pay him well for what he does. I’m happy for him.

Actually, my fear is less about facing the computer stuff than it is about facing, or rather not facing, someone and being asked to follow directions. Talking to a disembodied voice feels somewhat like talking to a God-like all-powerful figure. I feel so insignificant and helpless; there’s no one to turn to when it’s just me and the person at the other end of the phone, but I’m learning that they hang in there and hash it out with me through thick or thin. Though I imagine it many times during our conversation, I’ve yet to have someone say “you’re hopeless” and hang up the phone. It's like they're saying, "we're all in there together," and I find this hugely reassuring.

they walk away, they really do

my makeup essentials

When I was talking about our containers of controlled chaos with Candy the other day she said, “What do you mean, you have a lot of stuff? I don’t see it anywhere; your place is pretty clutter free.”

“That’s true,” I agreed.

But actually that’s a lie. Most of my stuff is controlled; corralled into closets, boxes, bins, and the laundry room – behind closed doors where no one dares to tread.

I’m finding that traces of clutter hide everywhere. It sneaks into crevices and ignored spaces when I’m not looking, which challenges my father’s words of wisdom (said in the most encouraging, authoritarian voice he could muster) “they didn’t just sprout legs and walk off somewhere.”

Apparently they do.

If the 3 lipsticks that I threw out last week were children, they’d be going through puberty right now; obsessing over boys and their weight. I understand that you should replace old cosmetics every few months; some crazy notion about makeup being a breeding ground for bacteria.

Pffft, ya right; a marketer’s ploy more like! My 3 yr old mascara has caused me no problems at all. I’ve used it about 12 times, like King Tutt it’s been virtually hermetically sealed.

Just a few months ago, in the interest of keeping my environment, as well as my face, fresh, I decided serious culling action was needed and I went at ‘er.

My makeup routine is a no brainer – lipstick, blush (cream and gel), and concealer. When I get real fancy, mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow get added to the mix. You’d think there wouldn’t be a lot to throw out. You’d think. Especially since makeup is not high up on my must have list.

I read women’s magazines in the check out line and at my hairdresser’s. The ads for makeup are so compelling and the pictures so convincing, aren’t they? Buy, buy, buy that latest age defying cream, the eye shadow that magically opens up your eyes, the eyeliner that gets rid of those red rims you’ve been genetically programmed for, or the mascara that creates lashes so full and long that Brooke Shields would be envious.

Each item I’ve bought has been tested and added to the bathroom shelf with my intention to make more effort in the appearance department but inevitably they've just gathered dust. Each new (new being a relative term) beautifier was a duplicate in terms of colour or function of the previous one.

Compared to most women, I don’t have a lot of makeup (this thought is the mine field rationalization that enables one to pull out the magic, plastic card), it’s just that I store it away for that “big night out”. And, when that night comes, what do I do? I put on my best jeans, shirt and earrings in lieu of cosmetics because, for one - its easier to slip on a pair of earrings than it is to paint myself beautiful, and two - it’s kind of like slight of hand – no, don’t look at her face, look over here, here at the pretty, shiny, sparkly things. In the looking good department distraction is my number one ploy.

What am I to do, my motto (a la Billy Crystal’s Fernando) is, “it’s better to feel good than to look good.” Pam (council member and style maven) proves that it is possible to feel good and look good at the same time, but alright I admit it, I’m too damn lazy, O.K.

So, lots has gone in the bin, but there’s that lovely professional quality powder brush that I can’t get rid of even though powder sinks into all the creases in my face freezing them there for posterity and for all to see. So, even though I’ve given up on powder long ago, the beautiful brush remains on my shelf; a taunting symbol of my youth gone by and reminder of purchases I’ll never make again.

makeup that I have that is less than

3 years old.

What you don't see on the counter anymore is: Bobbi Brown cream blush (which you can use on your eyelids or mouth too) in little pot - bought when I was in Vegas is about 5 years old. Smashbox O-gloss (lip gloss), Smashbox O-glow (gel blush) and Yves Saint Laurent touche (don't know how to make that thingy on top of the e) eclat highlighter (which I use as a concealer) - 3 years old, at least. Sad, isn't it?

Containers of Controlled CHAOS

OMG, I am totally psyched! I took this picture...and I loaded it into my computer...and I got it to appear here. I'm lov'in this technology!!!
______________________________________
In an ideal world, the optimal way to pare down one’s possessions and clear clutter is to have boxes ready and labeled as:
KEEP
GARBAGE
GIVE AWAY
SELL (garage sale, online, etc)
Place your stuff in the appropriate container and re-organize keepers in the new space you’ve created.

When I do this I:
- begin with a goal in mind, i.e. I want to cull 1/3rd of my stuff in a particular category.
- limit myself to a category at a time.
- keep sorting sessions short so as to keep sentimentality from getting in the way and bogging down the process.

Though life doesn’t always unfold in such an organized fashion, the stages of culling still remain the same: keep, throw out, give away or sell.
_______________________________________________________________________

“I have containers of controlled chaos everywhere.” Candy says with some dismay.

My sister is having some floors sanded in her house which has necessitated moving stuff from the upstairs rooms to the first floor. “I just threw stuff into bags to get the rooms cleared.”

“Wow, I’ve got them too,” I proclaimed with the enthusiasm of one who has found a kindred spirit. “I have containers of controlled chaos.” I had never thought of it quite like this before and her phrase cracks me up.

This perfectly describes what happens when one is forced by necessity to throw things into a box, bag or bin without sorting before hand. Such was the case when I had to clear the basement to make way for the renovation.

The reno is now complete and I love, love, love my space more than I can say. I also love the sense of space and peace that the uncluttered affect has on the room and all who enter.

As I cleared the space I chucked a lot stuff (see the domino effect) into my trusty little car. I am happy to announce that Alf is finally free of these items:
- Mattress and humungous piece of luggage – bit the bullet on these, gave up trying to get any bucks for them, both went to Goodwill.
- Mom’s coat – went to a women’s shelter
- Rods leather coat – went to my sister-in-law’s brother, fit him like a glove!

The juggling clubs are still knocking about, no longer underneath the drivers seat but, as you can see (I'm so thrilled that you can see this) now placed on top of a container ready to go to the reuse centre. When I mentioned this to Candy her response, “Aww, you’re getting rid of your juggling clubs?” elicited an incredible sense of guilt despite the fact that I am hopeless at them and am quite happy juggling balls instead. I want them to fly in the air as they were intended to, but sentiment is rising and fond memories are flooding my heart right now…so the verdict is out on this one.

The filing cabinet, filled with files from the crates that once resided on top of the trunk, got put on wheels and sits in the space at the bottom of the stairs as does the yet untouched trunk. Archives remain under the stairs yet to be sorted.

For months now a ton of other stuff has resided in the laundry room and I haven’t missed any of it, in fact I find the clutter claustrophobic which makes sorting much easier! I have already reduced the lot by 2 containers – much of their contents ended up in the garbage. But the books and tapes that were in them, as you’ll soon see, have all been sold or given away to charity.

Tapes were relatively easy for me to let go as the technology is becoming obsolete and I realized that, since I got my ipod, I haven’t listened to any of them for well over a year. They are on meditation and Buddhism. Though dearly loved they have been played over and over again so much so that they contain info that I now have absorbed on some level.

Of course I can always glean more each time I listen to them, but the tendency of human nature is to crave new stimulus. As I sorted I realized that I can let this stuff go because I am ready to release this subject matter as new interests are coming to the fore. Not that I won’t use the principles I learned about meditation or Buddhist philosophy; just the opposite. Some aspects have become part of my life and will come along with me on the next stage of my journey.

This was quite a revelation! I wouldn’t have really acknowledged all of this had I not asked myself, “what purpose do these items serve me?”

I found it easy to let go of books on asana practice as, now that I’m no longer teaching, I don’t need these resource materials. I’ve come to a point where I enjoy my practice far more than teaching yoga (and believe me I loved teaching!). The poses and modifications found in the books have been part of my practice for decades now. Most of them I first learned during workshops with many masters. If Iyengar is like ballet and ashtanga is like jazz then my practice has evolved into free form for which there are no guidebooks.

I kept some classics like Light on Yoga book by B.K.S. Iyengar I used that book to teach myself the “new” method just breaking through in my neck of the woods, all those years ago, in the 60’s. I didn’t realize it at the time but his work along with the ashtanga approach (which I studied in the mid 90’s) of his contemporary Pattabhi Jois would be the forerunners of all of the systems of asana that are practiced in the west now. If you do yoga today in Canada you have these guys as well as their teacher Sri Tirumalai Krishnamacharya to thank. (While researching this I found out that the author of Yoga Self Taught, Andre Van Lysebeth was a student of his – so his influence on my practice occurred from it’s inception as this was one of my first books on the subject, what do you know.)

I displayed my books for sale in my treatment room and some clients bought them for a reasonable fee. And just this week I made a timely discovery. Akasha’s Den in Oakville sells used books and CD’s for $3.00 a piece with the proceeds going to small dog rescue. They gladly accepted the donation of the rest of my books and tapes. Feels good, not only will they get used by others but little dogs will benefit from their sale – a far better deal than letting the books/CD’s remain unappreciated.

Through this process I’ve discovered that I love the idea of things being used more than I love having them as repositories for memories (with the possible exception of juggling clubs).

Instead of holding on to the past, by clearing old stuff out I’m redefining who I am. And, I think the laws of attraction might agree. I’ve now cleared a path for the energy of a new future filled with possibility to come through to me as I’m no longer hidden behind all that clutter.

The Domino Effect

I can see why people get stuck on clearing their clutter – it’s the dreaded domino effect that makes the task seem so daunting.

Take the treatment area of my basement for example. I want a clutter free, relaxing, peaceful atmosphere. Forget the cold, clinical feel that says, “after all I am a professional”. And, please don’t get me started on the woo woo angels, gauzy bits and pretty shiny things that adorn new agey type practices. Though I find it whimsically charming I am neither whimsical nor charming.

But, specifically what do I want my space to look like? I don’t really know. But I am taking it one step at a time which means that everything that gets omitted from my space is getting me closer to my goal. As items clear out it’s like having a blank canvas on which to envision the room of my dreams more clearly.

So far I’ve sold one chair to a client; donated towels and linens to Amity; taken old lamps no longer necessary now that I have pot lights (with dimmers I might add), bolsters, an iron, cork bulletin board and display holders, for starters, to the nearby Goodwill.

But some things loaded in the car bound for Goodwill never got unloaded and somehow I’m still driving around with a single-sized, blow up mattress with electric pump, which I have never used but that I though were an absolute necessity when I purchased them at a cranial sacral workshop about 10 years ago. It somehow escaped me during a fit of seminar inspired, consumer frenzy that I already had a massage table that would fit the bill just fine.

I drove over to a friend’s place seeking to unload this treasure for free. “It’s perfect for when your grandkids come to visit” was the spiel I used as I tried to appeal to her grandmotherly instincts. But no deal; ever prepared she makes boy scouts look like slackers. The queen of every contingency already has 2…queen sized no less.

My juggling clubs are clattering about underneath my driver’s seat. Though I’m somewhat proficient in juggling with 3 balls, I never could master the clubs and I think it’s sad that they haven’t really flown through the air in some 20 odd years nor have they adorned my wall in that funky decorative collage that exists only in my head. Goodwill won’t take them, “the kids will be running around bonking each other on the head with them” I was told.

And, I’ve realized that there’s nothing more pathetic than lugging your worldly possessions in a monstrous piece of luggage bigger than yourself down cobblestone streets, through the tube and onto and off of trains during the argument that inevitably happens between you and your traveling companion/husband during a 3 week trip abroad. It’s far more empowering to be able to throw one’s belongings on one’s back and stride off in a dignified manner which means that: a) a smaller combo back-pack-roller is essential and b) one needs to pare down drastically what one packs in future. But I hesitated when it came to parting with the roller luggage that I hauled around England and Paris; no, not for sentimental reasons but (although I don’t know how to go about it) I should be able to get something for it. It now takes up the entire back seat.

Mom’s lightly used camel coat hangs alongside Rod’s never used leather bomber jacket blocking my right rear window – both rejected by the upscale used clothing store in Oakville.

“The sleeves have been shortened and show signs of wear” the clerk tells me. The first observation’s true but surely there are other short women in this town and for the life of me as I inspect the cuffs I’m saying to myself “I don’t see any holes.” With mild disgust (she can read my mind) she adds to clarify “there is thinning of the fabric”. Nope, I still can’t see that.

“What about the leather jacket. It’s never been worn and is in perfect shape.”

“We don’t handle men’s apparel. Men don’t shop.”

“O.K. well, but women could wear this bomber style.”

She smiles weakly and nods “no, I don’t think so. Try the Nearly New Shop on Kerr Street. You might get something for it there.”

I find out that the most expensive item in the Nearly New is $10. Ouch, I don’t think so! Items “worth” a few hundred dollars each are reduced to $0. And this explains their setting up home in ALF W (my car).

I know you’re thinking, “She had all this stuff in her treatment room?”

Well no, but they needed to be moved out of the laundry/storage room so that the Thacker family archives can be put into the trunk (which needs to be cleared of my old junk some of which will be thrown out while the rest gets stored upstairs) and stored in their place, so my massage table can be stored where the trunk is now and the files that rest on top of the trunk in crates can be sorted into the new filing cabinet which needs to go under the stairs in the place that the archives now occupy so that…

See, the never ending, ever dreaded domino effect; noble opponent of declutterers everywhere; the Goliath to my David.

movin' on up

Rod and I are moving into phase II of the basement renovations – yea!

We thankfully got to the stage where I could move my treatments back downstairs thus reclaiming our living room space - yea!

But here’s the thing, in order for the reno to be done everything from the basement had to be temporarily stored in the laundry room. And it’s been driving me bonkers; bonkers I tell ya! I can’t stand it!

I can’t stand it that: visually it insults my senses to see mounds of things

piled up taking up every inch of floor space and more – can not compute, can not compute, can not compute – I get overwhelmed.

I can’t stand it that: although I packed and organized for easy access, all the treatment supplies I would need til the job is done, in a logical order, when I go to look for them it seems that the deductive reasoning part of my brain that took charge of the operation has vacated the premises so the rummaging begins further compounding the problem.

I can’t stand it that: In order to do my laundry I have to: move a bazillion boxes on top of other boxes which were so crammed full that they can’t be closed so that everything ends up perched at precarious angles and just the wrong move: the shifting of a piece of paper, lifting of a pencil or a sneeze will set the wheels in motion for a domino-like kinesthetic event worthy of a Rube Goldberg machine.

I can’t stand it that: I hate bumping into things and even worse having things: run over my toes (my bike), come crashing towards my head (a shelf the size of a two by four) or hit my funny bone (my rebounder) all in a clumsy dance-like succession of steps. I become jumpy, irritable and tense.

I can’t stand it that: I get claustrophobic in tight spaces which makes me want to push things away from me physically, which happened to be the strongest PMS symptom for me (that is before I became post menopausal, a big yea!). Though some people would argue that it was my irritability, my mantra back then was “don’t touch me”, “get outta my way”, “Aaarrrrgh” or @#$%@$% in response to anyone coming near or placing objects beside me. So, if you think I’m bad now you shudda seen me then.

I can’t stand it that: I move quickly through crammed spaces til a clearing can be found roaring in frustration all the while (since I’m not a screaming kind of gal). So staying in the laundry room long enough to get anything done builds up propulsive tension in my body until I can’t breathe and my coiled muscles explode launching me out of the room with such a force as to scatter the cats (who are far more stressed that I) to the far reaches of the house.

After a few days of enduring this existence I began to wonder, “How do hoarders do it?” This is only one small room in an otherwise orderly home. How can they live in such chaos?

So I watched Hoarders one night.

OMG, seeing houses crammed with mountains of rotting stuff and witnessing the emotion driving the compulsion made me unbelievably anxious. So much so that it spurred me on to get back in there and get down to business. Since I’m in the process of redefining my practice and I’m still committed to clutter clearing 30 minutes a day, (how it all began) this is just what I needed to kick start me as I’d gotten stuck on clearing, responding to and organizing e-mails on a daily basis. Time to get down to the real nitty-gritty!

And I have been relentless. My motivating, “keep on track” question is, “how do I visualize my practice?” I imagine the space as I want it to be: peaceful, healing, spacious and uplifting. All non-essentials, items and info that no longer reflect who I am right now and where I’m headed; old baggage/history - no matter how fond the memories they induce, they are going. I don’t need them crowding up space anymore not only in my basement but also in my brain.

So, as I bid these things and outdated concepts adieu I say “thanks for the memories”; it’s time to move on.
____________________________________________________________________

Update:

COINKYDINK:
As you may recall I got obsessed with the word coinkydinky and decided to play the synchronicity game. I was to track any hints of the uttering of such word or connections to it for a week. The deadline for it to be considered a synchronicity or coincidence has come and gone – it was Oct. 23rd. Results no hits, yet other synchronicities continue to delight me.

NOTE: image by Richard X. Thripp

Pubic Betrayal

Was feelin’ fine,
Was feelin’ sound,
Til one grey pubic hair I found.
Odd that the ones on my head
Don’t fill me with such sense of dread
Of my
Impending
Ending
As
One grey hair
Down there.

(poem Copyright Nance Thacker 1984)

I’m sorting out mental clutter today, can’t you tell, as for some reason this bad poem is stuck in my head and I figured that the best way to get rid of it is to get it out into the open.

The fact is I’m so over this now.

Is this a good thing or a bad thing?

the gig is up - virtual clutter be gone!

Beef Pasties with Onion and Stilton, Caramel Nut Tart, Texas Beef Brisket Chili, Roast Beef with Dijon Caper Sauce, Winter Minestrone, Glazed Pearl Onions in Port, Brandied Plum Clafoutis….

“Brandied Plum what?”

Never mind. What do all of these things have in common?

This is only a partial list of recipes I will never use. So what the heck are they doing in my e-mail in box? They are there because I can have them. I can collect them and store them in a section of my computer; pull them up, drool over them (O.K. well not the meat items as I haven’t had beef since 1971), and taste them virtually without ever having to make them. Ones own little stash of food porn, available at the tap of a key.

They won’t collect dust on my shelves or take up any physical space just gigs on my laptop. And what the hell is a gig anyway? And why is it one of the top items listed in a computer’s features? I know it’s got to do with storage space but I’ve never run out of them so what should it matter? It’s like telling me that: some hot little sports car can go from 0 – 100 in 3 seconds flat (yup like I’m going to need that on the way to my yoga class and a cop’s not going to nail my ass if I did decide to test it out); or that a record player “can even play your records upside down” (told to me by a phonographophile salesman).
“Wow,” was my wide-eyed response, as I was truly impressed by this technological marvel.
When I shared this fact with a friend his response was, “So then I guess you’re intending on listening to the Ride of the Valkyries, as your boat goes down during the perfect storm?”

I don’t own a boat.

Back to my point, I’m still working the Soul Coaching program and each day I have been sorting out stuff. Stuff takes up space. As I get rid of excess stuff space is opened up. This opening feels spacious, actually allows me to breathe freer and feels so good that I haven’t been tempted to fill it up again.

My old recipe box now has 1/3 rd less cards in it. In the clearing out process favourite dishes were unearthed and brought to the front of the box. Inspired by these dishes, I actually spent a day cooking various meals and freezing them. Yes, my friends you heard that right. People who know me know that I loathe the mundane, daily routine of meal planning and cooking with a passion.

This conversation drives me crazy:

Me, “What do you want to have for dinner?”
Translation: “What would you like to make me for dinner?”

Rod, “I don’t know. What do you want to have?”
My interpretation: “I don’t consciously know, but do the Vulcan Mind Meld on me and pull out one of the many possibilities that reside in the depths of my mind and I will know that our love is true.”

Me, “I don’t know.”
Translation: “Aaarrgh” I begin to hyperventilate and run screaming from the house, jump into the hot red sports car waiting in my drive and in 3 seconds flat go blazing down the road at 100 miles an hour.
Actual translation: “I really, really, really don’t know. Please God, make this conversation go away!”

So, now I have an assortment of simple, home-made, healthy, preservative free food labeled and waiting to be plucked from the freezer, awakened from their frozen slumber and joined with a side salad for leisurely and hassle free daily consumption. Light some candles, turn on the record player, raise the stylus up to the record, ah bliss; works for me.

Back at the computer now; sorting out stuff includes, surprise surprise, virtual stuff too. Hoarding is hoarding in all its forms. Imagining myself to be some sort of gourmand, I had signed up for weekly recipes and food feature mailings from epicurious, months ago and I just keep filing them away without a glance. Turns out all of this excess accumulation does use up memory and make your computer run slower; like one’s mind which, caught up on distractions and diversions take us off the path of our true desire and deplete our energy for life.

And as I sort out this stuff I imagine my mind clearing itself of useless clutter, getting sharper, focusing on what I really want to spend my time doing while these keys are smok’n under my fingertips.

DELETE it is!

spring spiritual detox

Here I am contentedly sitting cross-legged on the floor of my treatment room amongst bins, boxes, piles of papers to be categorized and files to be sorted, feeding page after page of now obsolete info into my paper shredder; the one with “ferocious” shredding power.

Occasionally I linger over way out of date financial records, client lists, appointment books just long enough to appreciate that all of these people and associations have helped me develop my therapeutic practice. They were my teachers as much as I was there therapist. Some relationships continue to this day while others were passing experiences. And I feel deep gratitude towards them all.

The air becomes silent. The most gratifying sounds of material being chomped, crunched and devoured; music to my ear for the past 2 hours, has come to a dead halt.

I turn the machine off and let it rest while I putter about making order out of the chaos strewn around me.

When I turn the shredder on again the little green light shines and I delicately offer up one folded paper, placing it gently into the mouth of “ferocious” but… nothing. Even its little red light, indicating overheated, has fallen dull and lifeless.

Sigh.

It is with great sadness that I announce the passing of Mailmate a plucky little shredder that, now I find out, “will handle 51-100 uses per day.”

Ooops.

Well, its ferocity couldn’t match my enthusiasm for clearing clutter.

You see I am working through Soul Coaching - 28 Days to Discover Your Authentic Self by Denise Linn; actually doing all of all the exercises. What with a business association come to an end, work being slow, and having just gotten through Mom’s most recent health crisis I find myself declaring, “I am so done.”

And, with this declaration comes the greatest sense of release! The timing couldn’t be better.

Who am I? Where am I going and why have I, all my life, been in such a hurry to get there? What am I doing with my life right now? Can I not allow myself to enjoy every day as it unfolds? What have I got to be grateful for?

It feels as if I have a lot of stuff – material, mental, emotional and spiritual - to clear out of my life because it’s worn a too familiar pathway in my psyche, bogging me down and draining my energy. How can I make way for new possibilities if I keep doing the same thing, thinking the same thoughts? Who I am is clearly in need of an overhaul.

For 2 and 1/2 years, as a house-sitter living in Victoria, B.C., I moved on average every 6 weeks, more or less. Our co-op house had disbanded and as a house-sitter I lived in and took care of other people’s houses – pets, gardens, and on my first instance 1 teenager – in lieu of rent, while they were away.

I rented, for $50./month, a studio space in Xchanges Gallery (when it was located above Canadian Linen on North Park St.) where I kept a mattress, my essential record player and record collection, a cinder block and board bookcase and all the art supplies I needed as a cartoonist – the portable drawing board my brother made for me, art board, pens, ink etc. Some house hold items got stored in the basement of my first house sitting assignment.

Other than that every item I owned I carried from house to house transported in green garbage bags. I was affectionately called by my friends an “aspiring bag lady” or the “little hunza” (which I was told was a group of small, sturdy, sherpa-like people).

How quickly I got tired of packing and unpacking; carrying everything I owned literally on my back. Soon I began to question just what was important, useful, desirable, necessary or simply treasured. Some items never made their way out of my garbage bags from sit to sit. So things just fell by the wayside as the time went on. Two garbage bags became one and any item that I desired to add to my stash meant that another would have to be released.

And here I am today having accumulated so much stuff that I don’t even know just what I have let alone appreciate it.

On day 2 of the program, rejecting one of the suggested options - “Dance with wild abandon for 10 minutes” as being too familiar, I have vowed to do “Clutter-clearing for 30 mins per day” for the duration of the commitment.

The criterion I am using to determine whether it stays or it goes are these:

BUSINESS:
Financial – get rid of anything beyond 7 years ago.
Treatment related – get rid of files over 10 years old, unless the client has seen me within the last 10 years.
Active files are those clients who have seen me within the last 2 years.
Files for storage – between the 2 & 10 year period

PERSONAL:
- have I used the item in the last 6 months
- do I love it, appreciate it or does it please me to have it
- Does it have positive associations – do I feel good when I see it. If I feel bad or my energy feels drained out it goes.
- does it represent who I am now or is it simply memory of days gone by (been there done that – bye bye)
- Does it move me towards a future possibility – does it give me a sense of expansion

Although the duration of the program is 28 days, I am doing all 3 levels for each day so triple that = 84 days. Some of the exercises have taken me more than one day. So with an attitude of “it takes what it takes” I’ll be sorting out for more than 3 months guaranteed.

Linn says that de-cluttering resides in the aspect of air and is associated with “clearing mental debris”. Believing that the best beginnings start with good endings, as I release each item I do so with appreciation – for at one time, whether I am conscious of it or not, they served some purpose.

This is taking me on a journey into every nook and cranny of my house both literally and figuratively. It is more than just clearing clutter. Think of it as a Spiritual Detox.