My husband and I are in our early seventies. His latest health challenge, last June, prompted us to begin looking ahead to a possible move. There’s no immediate pressure, so we have the gift of time to create a mindful decluttering process.
When we first arrived here in 2007, our kids were launched, and I had done a major purge before the move. I now want to recreate the spaciousness from that time; for me, openness represents possibility. But Rod, my husband, tends to see empty space as something to fill. And so, we’re having honest conversations about where to focus our attention and what to release, sharing our challenges and successes.
Letting go of our possessions has provided me with an unexpected emotional and psychic release. At the same time, I’ve come face to face with our reduced physical capacity and the awareness that more changes are likely.
“It’s hard to let go — our attachments keep us hanging on to our stuff”
I took an online class with Sheron Jutila, a Comox Valley resident and long-time yoga teacher who now offers decluttering support. During the class, we worked in 10- and 15-minute increments, which allowed everyone to feel successful. I’ve been using her suggestions that work best for me: make a plan, focus on one small area at a time, and use a timer.
My first strategy was to tackle unused items in plain sight, starting with three djembes and one doumbek. I was once a member of an all-women’s drum group that performed for special occasions, but, for 10 years, the drums sat in a corner, collecting dust. They’ve gone on to new owners, since I’ve accepted that I will not pick up drumming again. I felt like I was saying goodbye to that version of Marie who was once dedicated to perfecting syncopated polyrhythms.
It’s hard to let go. Our attachments keep us hanging on to our stuff. Over these past months, as we slowly—I emphasize slowly—let go of material things, I’ve identified two main categories of clinging.
Identities, past and present
Every phase of my life is reflected by books on the subject, and gear to support my activities. Books that fed my dreams of international travel, like my Turkish-English dictionary and Lycian Way guidebook, have gone to the Rotary Book Sale—along with a measure of regret for the trails not taken.
Outdoor gear we are no longer using has also moved on. My husband made the difficult decision to sell his sea kayak to a friend, since expedition adventures are now beyond his ability. There is sadness as we say goodbye to the earlier versions of ourselves.
“One surprising outcome from decluttering is a sense of opening”
Future possibilities
One of my husband’s reasons for holding on to his possessions is “I might need that some time.” My version, especially when it comes to half-completed craft projects, goes something like, “I’ll get back to this one day.” In the past week, I’ve finally opened a box of my knitting supplies, where I discovered a half-knitted sweater. I intend to repurpose the yarn and turn it into a lap blanket. (I know, I know!)
Rod has a harder time letting go of things than I do, so I am applying patience, identifying what helps his process, and acknowledging his efforts. It takes emotional discipline and determination to stay on task.
For me, one surprising outcome from decluttering is a sense of opening. Somehow, releasing my stuff has inspired me to change how I organize my days. I’ve let go of some regular activities to create space for emerging interests (there may be new books or outdoor gear in my future) and I’ve also made significant changes to my teaching schedule, creating more unstructured time.
My goal is to have our space as empty as possible by moving time. We will likely be decluttering for at least another year, which excites me: the more I release physical objects, the more motivated I am to keep going. I’m grateful for the facilities here in the Valley that allow us to donate, sell, or reuse items and keep them out of landfills—one of our major goals with this endeavour.
As I reflect on our decluttering process, it’s like a full-circle moment. The new owner of Rod’s kayak is planning a summer sea kayaking expedition, and my drums are now allowing someone else to further explore the world of percussion. Same passions, new owners. It’s a win-win for everyone.
