Lessons from limited space

Birdcage art doll by Sandra Evertson.

Despite my steadfast rule about "one thing comes in, another goes out," I have collected lots of treasures, with too little space to house them. Lately I've started to feel suffocated by all the "things" around me, beautiful as they are. So in a quest for more space - and room to breathe - on Tuesday, my friend Di Overton is coming over with a van and we're going to fill it with items, possibly for her Ghost Furniture line or for whatever use she sees fit.

Among the items departing are four stained-glass panels (from a circular stairway in a 19th-century Paris apartment building); two tall wooden folding screens; an Art Deco chair; a Napoleon III table; a Directoire table; an English Arts & Crafts table; a small wrought iron daybed; a child's wooden Windsor chair; a wooden stool; a large mirror; four lamps and assorted curiosities. Many of these items have been stored in the cave (wine cellar); taking them away will enable me to move furniture - that I want to keep - from the apartment to the cave.

I must say seeing all these things grouped together awaiting pickup is a bit disconcerting. And I'm reluctant to bid farewell to the Art Deco chair and the Directoire table. At the same time, I feel as though a burden has lightened - it's freeing to let these things go.

For many years I lived like a gypsy, traveling from place to place as a journalist. Very few things went with me - clothes, jewelry, toiletries, a few favourite books, music and framed photos. That's the way I liked it - easier to move around, without worrying about the fate of expensive treasures. In the US, whenever I started to feel too comfortable and settled, I'd sell my furniture and move.

In 1993, I left nine suitcases behind in Jordan. Having traveled to the US to visit family, I'd intended to return to retrieve the bags. Then I was planning to move to London with a man with whom I was involved romantically. But he disappointed me; instead of returning to Amman, I flew to San Francisco. I expect someone took advantage of our left luggage, wearing our clothes and using our things (I do regret losing Jordana's childhood collection of about 30 Barbie dolls, although she later collected a few more).

During the 1989 earthquake, I was living in San Francisco for the first time. I'd sold my furniture and all my precious and sentimental things were packed up and stored at a friend's apartment, in preparation for returning to the Middle East on assignment. Two days after the earthquake, a colleague went to the Marina district to retrieve whatever belongings she could in the few minutes allotted (as the structures were considered unsafe). She'd loaded her car and started the ignition, ready to drive away when a policeman motioned for her to come over.

As she started walking towards him, an electrical pole crashed down on her car, flattening it and destroying everything inside. Of course her attitude was that she may not have her material things, but she had her life.

One New Year's Eve, friends in Virginia had gone to bed early and taken night-time pain medicine for aches and pains of the flu. About 2 a.m. they were awakened by someone pounding on their door. They stumbled downstairs, still drowsy from the cold medication. Just as they opened the door, a stranger grabbed them and pulled them off their porch, shouting, "Get out, get out, your house is on fire!"

At that very moment, the roof collapsed and the house burned to the ground, taking all their possessions, including some special art pieces acquired during their postings around the world. The stranger - who was lost, driving through the wrong neighbourhood - stopped when he saw flames licking the roof of my friends' home. His intervention literally saved their lives.

So I tried to embrace that "at least you are alive to tell" philosophy months later, when on assignment in the Middle East, my so-called friend in San Francisco disappeared, taking my valuables with her (or maybe she gave them away). I was distraught about losing my grandmother's quilt, some special gifts, photographs and love letters. Since then, I've tried not to get too attached to things. I frequently give things to Jordana or to friends. I give clothes and household items to charity. My decor is ever-evolving, although a few old favourites I hope will remain.

But I don't count on that. I think about the monks who spend 15 years building a magnificent temple, then destroy it and start another. I think about refugees around the world who are driven from their homes, forced to flee conflict and war. I think about the victims of natural disasters, such as the flooding in India or the hurricane currently bearing down on New Orleans and the Gulf Coast - a cruel trick for an area still recovering from Katrina's devastation.

I think about the beauty of our hearts and minds and that material things can't hold a candle to nature's wonders. The reminder is it's the journey - what we DO along the way and how we touch people's lives - not the things we have collected by the end of our own.

The heart-shaped tomato on a tea towel was found at a local greengrocer's.

Comments

[studio wellspring]

wonderful words from a wise woman. having just moved & given away more than half of my possessions i can relate well to your situation. it does feel lighter to have less stuff to be responsible for. and it's so important to keep the real valuables in this life in focus: loved ones, compassion, generosity, kindness. so treasure you, dear one!

[Josie]

This post has really touched me. I live in a very small terrace house and so continually have to let go and cull. You expressed a lot of what I've been thinking lately so eloquently.
I found your Blog through Di's Blog. So glad that I did stumble across you. Paris is one of my favourite cities in the world and I think I could learn a lot through your words and sharing

[Christina]

I'm wiping away the tears over here. While reading, it's as though I began to let go of the things that really aren't important. Knowing I am with the ones I love, is all that matters.

[Lisa Wilson]

Hi Tara,
Coincidence. I just wrote a post about red depression glass and how I lost most of my grandmothers collection in a weird incident. And how it has allowed me to detach from things. I am always changing decor and items out to reinforce that everything is replaceable.
Lisa & Alfie

[Karen DeGroot Carter]

I still wish you had your grandmother's quilt, Tara. Hugs from Denver, K.

[Lynne Rutter]

thatnks for this post, this sort of thing has been on my mind a lot lately.
i love my nice things, too. but i have 800 sq feet here so i am a ruthless editor. my work is all about designing something new and reshaping someone else's space, and then when it's done i have to leave it behind. i am never happier than i am when traveling with very little, and open to whatever i see.
change is good. evolution is good. letting go is good.

[Karen Cole]

Beautiful thoughts told as only a seasoned writer can tell.

Thanks for my thought for the ..........day, week, month and year.

xo Karen

[tangobaby]

Tara, this is such a wonderful post and I can imagine how hard it must be to see your things loaded up and ready to go on to new places.

I think because you have exquisite taste and finding treasures can only give you joy that it is doubly hard to let things leave the cave. But these things that pass on to other happy owners will make way for the new things to come. I like what Michaele says: "Letting go" is really "giving to others."

Thank you for the reminder that it's the life we are so fortunate to have is what matters most. The examples you share show us that nothing is certain, no matter how we prepare. And the good news is that we will go on, despite our material losses.

xoxo

[Rosa]

What heartfelt stories. It has a lot to say about material "things." Yesterday, while driving back to Nashville from the Gulf coast, I couldn't help but think about the people behind the wheels of cars that were loaded, inside and out, with belongings. Most had Louisiana plates but there were also some from Mississippi. I wondered to myself what items I would jam into my car if I had to leave. It wouldn't be an easy decision because just about everything I own, I'm attached to! You are fortunate to be able to let go so easily.

[amber]

I so agree, Tara. I have lost so many, many things while growing up moving so much. We often packed up in the middle of the night-- to skip out on rent, or running from her ex-- and only took what we could fit in the car. My mom always said we would come back for stuff, but we never did. And then the fire that burned my grandparents house down...

As a result, I learned not to hold too tight to "things"... In a way, this is not all together good in every respect. I struggle with feelings of never belonging anywhere, or to anything, or anything really belonging to me. BUT I have learned I belong to the people I love and choose to share my life with. And I think I have an easier time than many, with the idea that this life is just a passing thing, and "things" can be lost. I LOVE cleaning things out and purging, too. It feels great.

It is sad, though, to lose some things before you are ready to give it up! lol! I mean, I know it won't kill me, but still.

;)

[Allegra Smith]

Yes and Yes and Yes! The only things I am having trouble parting with are those inherited ones. Some times - I have no family left except the one I have created, when I touch something "they" have touched over one hundred years ago I wonder about what they were doing, were they young? in love? were they happy? did they have time to ponder about the same existential things we sometimes ponder about? or were they just putting the china, the crystal or the linens away without a second thought, hurrying to get it done? Those things are the only connection to the blood in my veins, the photographs of people I never met, the touch of my Grandpapá in his Chinese Scholar robe, how could I part with those things?

I told my husband just yesterday that I am selfish because I would leave to my son the task of dealing with that. I cannot, much as I am aware what it does to my psyche, break that silver cord in order to both silence my unrelenting desire for simplicity and the desire to have a connection with the past.

The ¨stuff¨is regularly given away without the need for an excuse. Linens and plates and decorative things that once held my attention are happily sent away for others to enjoy. But for those other meaningful things I believe I am nothing more than the steward who must keep them for the next generation in hopes that some day they will touch a dish and think "Mother
touched that, I can feel it" and the cord will stay intact.

Thank you for a thoughtful and heartfelt post. Your treasures will be treasured by others now and you will have not only the memories but the space as well to bring the whimsical and the magical into your life. I wish you all of that.

Allegra

[leonie]

beautifully written Tara. i am sitting at my desk looking out the window and thinking of all the things i have in my house that really do need to move on now.

this makes me realise once again that material things are not part of who i am and my identity can often be more clearly shown without the excess baubles.

xx love to you from london
leonie

[gordy and georgie]

It is all "stuff". While there are some inherited things I would miss, it is what is in our hearts and memories that matters.

[Colette]

Hear, hear, Tara.
I lived out of a couple of suitcases most of my life, until I got married, but his death got me back to the suitcases. It's only when I settled into this apartment that I got more comfortable with furniture and other possessions. Still, sometimes I look around and wonder that I have so much. You're right, it's best not to get too attached to the material things... xoxo

[Michelle]

What a beautiful post and great reminder of what's truly important; before I was born, the family homestead burned down, so I grew up with the constant refrain of "it was lost in the fire." It was a powerful message to hold inside of me my whole life, and I believe it has served me well in my attitude toward "things."

Still, I'm so sorry you lost your grandmother's quilt :(

[Michaele]

We lighten our load regularly, moving from post to post, and while we keep our family photos and keepsakes, almost everything else is sold, traded, or donated. Military units still at home tend to be mobilized when disasters like Katrina strike, so our family has already gotten a donation box started, ready to go- I'll tell you, we're really hoping that Murphy's Law plays out for us this time- we're prepared, so hopefully Gustav will be nothing like Katrina.

Though the box will go just the same. We might have *wanted* those items, needed some of them certainly at one point, but other people need them now. "Letting go" is really "giving to others."