Tag Archives: Pack Rat

DISASTER STRIKES!! What Would You Take With You?

“If we fear loss enough, in the end the things we possess will come to possess us.” –Rachel Naomi Remen

Hello friend,

True confession: I am a bit of a hoarder. My mother teasingly calls me “Pack Rat” over my unwillingness to throw things away. She ought to know: her basement is still full of my old t-shirts, trophies, and football cards. I wish I could say I have become better about that with age. No, I still find reasons to keep just about everything that comes my way, no matter how useless or out of style it is or becomes.

I am not sure where this comes from.

Some of it is pure nostalgia. I like the Air Jordan shirt I used to wear in college—when Jordan gear still had the Nike swoosh on it—because it makes me smile whenever I go through my stuff. Do I ever wear it? No. I like that smile, though. The same goes for old books I will never read again, expired driver’s licenses, even eyeglasses I used to wear.

Some of it is in anticipation of hard times. I save for a rainy day (and I am cheap). I know that the gurus tell us to anticipate abundance and live accordingly, but I am really bad at that. When I worked in Tennis, I got some free gear every year. Like a squirrel preparing for Winter, I saved everything I could in anticipation of the day, some years away, when I would return to playing, or when my kids would get serious about it. Same for when I worked in Running: I stocked up on free or cheap shoes so that I won’t need to shell out any money for several more years of exercising. It’s all here in my home, stuffed in every nook and cranny.

When we were planning to buy a house several years ago, one of my requirements was that it be large enough to accommodate two of my defining idiosyncratic needs: 1) my boatloads of nostalgia/junk (depending upon who you ask J), and 2) my own space to be alone. I got my wish: we have a house that has lots of space, all of which is filled. My clothes are in the guest room, and my everything else fills the large basement. I have multiple work spaces, where I am surrounded (suffocated?) by things at all times. So many things….

While tooling around Facebook this week, I came across a post by an old friend that upset my psychological apple cart. It said, “Worst thing I lost in the fire: 3 ½ years of journaling. With every entry I wrote a 6 line poem, that rhymed. Kurt Vonnegut wrote in an essay that journaling can be a daily cathartic moment, or some amount of time. But more important was a six line poem that didn’t need much thought, just do it; keeps the mind sharp. I lost somewhere around 1800 six line poems (not one was worth reading twice). So it goes.  

I suddenly felt so sad and empty. I just wanted to give him a hug.

It rattled me, too, though. Shook me up.

Twenty years ago, when I was just getting in the swing of writing often and long in my journal, I left it at a laundromat in Los Angeles. Later that night (after closing time), when I realized it, I had a little panic attack. In my short time with it, my journal had become priceless to me. I simply could not bring myself to imagine the loss. My heart pounded in my chest until the next morning, when I showed up at the door right before the place opened. The old janitor went back into his closet to look for my book as I sweated and prayed, sweated and prayed. When he walked out with it in his hands, I wanted to kiss him. I have been hyper-vigilant with each volume ever since, afraid to relive that trauma for fear it would not turn out so happily the next time.

And now my old journals are a part of my work as one my book projects, which only increases their worth. Though I am aware they hold absolutely zero value to anyone else, they truly are priceless to me.

In the aftermath of my friend’s tragic post—the fire had been several months ago, and he survived, but the news about the lost journals was new—and my bout of minor post-traumatic stress, I got to thinking about just what I would choose to salvage if I knew a natural disaster was coming and I could only choose a few possessions. In my head, I gave myself more leeway than someone running out of a fire, just enough time to get the few things I really wanted, even if they were in the very back of the closet.

Of course, my journals were the very first thing that came to mind. I have a few plastic totes full of them, but every page would have to come. I was so relieved at the very thought of saving them, at first I wondered if there was anything else that would sadden me much to lose (to be clear: in my imaginary scenario, no people or pets are in danger). Was it just the journals?

No, but I didn’t stray very far from that vein. As further evidence that the material possessions that I value most in this world are just my memories and impressions of my time here, the very next thing that I would take is the small box that holds my camera’s filled memory cards. These little coin-sized gems hold thousands and thousands of priceless moments from my life as a parent. They are also another version of the way I capture my world. When I am old and can no longer do much for myself, I will put on some good music and a continuously looping slide show of all of these beautiful images that remind me of my true treasures.

If I get to be greedy and take more than my journals and photo cards, the last things I will grab are my computers that have all of my other writing in them. Again, the representations of my soul and my journey win out.

I guess my theme is consistent. It reminds me of my Mom’s answers when my siblings and I would ask her what we could get her for Mother’s Day. She always just wanted us to make something for her, something from the heart, like homemade cards or art projects. The “things” I really want to hold onto from my house full of stuff are just things that I have made, stuff from my heart. The other stuff is just, well, stuff. I’m okay without it.

How about you? What are your most valued possessions? Open up your journal and think about everything you own. If a natural disaster were on its way to destroy your home and you could choose but a few items, what would you take with you? Do your answers come quickly to mind and strike you as obvious, or do you have to dig around and make some tough decisions? What is it about the obvious ones that make them so easy? Are they things that you have no way of replacing? Are they memory items, like family photos, souvenirs, or heirlooms? Are they very expensive to buy? Are they super-personal or more general? Which of your items are things that probably wouldn’t make it on other people’s lists? Why do those unique things make it onto yours? Do your choices have a consistent theme, like the way mine are all about how I chronicle my life? What do your choices say about what you value? If you lost absolutely everything you own—but weren’t out anything financially—how do you think you would handle it psychologically? I picture myself going catatonic for a while, a lá Cameron in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”, unable to face the loss of my writing and photos. To what degree do your possessions, as the opening quote suggested, possess you? On a scale of one to ten, how materialistic do you think you are? Leave me a reply and let me know: If you had only one load to run out the door with, what would you take? 

Be your best today,

William

If today’s letter had you questioning, pass it on. And remember: The best things in life aren’t things at all. Cheers!

On the Verge of the Purge

DSC_0160“Out of clutter, find simplicity.” –Albert Einstein

Hello friend,

There are many things in this life that I am really terrible at. Home improvement projects. Staying in touch with loved ones. Painting pictures. Keeping my opinion to myself. Stopping when I am full. There are many other things that I simply have no inclination to do and thus fail at. Opening the mail. Bill-paying (and everything else related to finances). Dusting.   Answering the phone. Listening to someone telling me what to do. Between the two, it is a wonder that I stay afloat as an adult member of society (thank goodness for a responsible spouse!).

But there is one thing that I am both awful at and have no inclination to do, and this thing is on the verge of crippling my spirit and any sort of creativity that I fancy myself capable of. What is it? Organization. I am the King of Clutter! Not just right now, but forever. I have defended my crown for years and years on end, and no one can threaten me in this ring. I am—literally and figuratively—a mess!

My mother has been calling me “Pack Rat” since I was a kid, because I seem to be utterly incapable of throwing anything away. Tennis magazine from 1989? “No way! There might be an article that I will want to read someday.” T-shirt from 1994? “Why would I? It still fits!” Post-It note with a lesson plan from 2002? “What if I run out of ideas? I might need that lesson again someday!” Awkward sunglasses from 1997? “Fashion goes in cycles. I need to be ready when this one comes back!” Broken bike from high school? “I’m going to fix it up. What? I AM!” Garbage bag—yes, I said garbage bag—full of unworn t-shirts from a promotional campaign at an old job? “They’re BRAND NEW! I’ll never need to buy a t-shirt again in my life!” On and on it goes. I could probably start my own branch of Goodwill or The Salvation Army. Or, perhaps more wisely, I could bring it all out to the street, light a match, and roast marshmallows for all the neighbors. A win-win!

Sure, some things I keep for genuine sentimental value, as I am nothing if not nostalgic. All of the cards my wife and kids ever made for me give me happy tingles every time I read through them. I still have—conveniently (for me) stored at my parents’ home—every one of the trophies that filled my room as a child. I know it seems silly, but each one holds a crystal clear image of a happy or poignant memory from my childhood. Heck, even that old, beat-up bike in my shed is so saturated with memories–solitary rides on prairie roads to get over a break-up, following my fearless brother down treacherous mountain single-tracks I had no business being on, and exploring the beach towns of Southern California—that I can’t stand to give it up. I am such a sap for this stuff.

But what is really weighing me down is not these mementos and special pieces of my history. No, the piles that surround me on all sides when I sit at my desk are just ordinary, don’t-have-a-spot-for-this-kind-of-stuff junk, such as papers, cords, cases, and media. It is investment and retirement statements, old magazines, work papers, more of those lesson plans, CDs, camera stuff, cords from the portable DVD player that gets used every few years, books that seem like they should be kept within arm’s length instead of three feet away in the bookshelf, the pile of papers I was going to shred a few years ago but didn’t quite get to it, and the nine backpacks I like to rotate to suit my mood for the day.   All of these things surround me when I sit down to work. It is more than “surround,” though. They envelope me. They suffocate me. They seep into my soul and sap my creativity. They drain my energy. And, for all of the reasons I just mentioned, they are really starting to ANNOY me. It is time for a declutter.

Say it isn’t so! It is so much a part of me to keep everything, so I hate to even think about a purge. But maybe, just maybe, it is more a part of me to be free and efficient and energized and creative. Wow, just writing that makes decluttering sound so much more healthy and appealing! To remove the things that drain my energy and thus free up my heart, mind, and creative spirit—this suddenly seems like a most worthwhile project!

But if it is so wonderful to be organized, how did I let myself get buried in these piles? Didn’t I notice it before? Hmmm…..do I just need to own it, or can I make some excuses? Maybe some of each. I fully admit that I am bad at filing. If I had a file cabinet full of very specific folders for any kind of financial statement or keepsake or magazine, I think I could begin to see my carpet. Containers for electronics and CD cases would work so well, but I don’t do that, either. I simply don’t have a system, and I should. On the excuse front, I think I just don’t have the time. I never feel like there is a spare moment—much less a few hours–to address the growing piles, so I just keep adding to them. If a “free” evening appeared out of nowhere—when I didn’t have homework to do or a blog post to write or something else pressing to read or write about—I would like to believe that I would jump on this once and for all.

But I don’t. I haven’t. Something always pushes the decluttering down my To-Do List for the day, something more pressing. I think, however, that I am finally coming to that point where all of this clutter is sapping enough of my energy and diminishing the quality of my other pursuits. I am finally noticing it, becoming more aware of it, both physically and emotionally. It is the dreaded “unhealthy work environment” that should never be an issue when it comes to a home office. What have I done to myself?

Whatever it is, it is time to undo it. It is time to make the time. I need to take the advice I give so freely to everyone else: “SCHEDULE YOUR PRIORITIES!” Now that I am recognizing this suffocating feeling and its source, I am beginning to see a Decluttering Day as something that has earned a chunk of my precious time, something schedule-worthy. I am ready for the freedom that will come from being organized. I long for the extra energy and creativity that will come from reclaiming my personal space. I am due. I can feel that now. I am on the verge of the purge!

How about you? What are the energy drainers that you need to clean up or remove from your life? Open up your journal and examine your mental and physical spaces. If you had to pick one room in your home that you could tackle right now, which one would it be? Is your clutter more the kind that just needs to be organized—like filing papers–or do you need to get rid of some stuff? Would it be a blessing if someone lit a match to your worst room, or are you not that far gone yet? What kinds of things do you keep longer than the average person? What is it about these things? Are they still useful, or is it mostly sentimental? Do you have any people in your life that act as clutter, making you feel confined and draining your energy? Is it time to purge them, too? Do you ever feel guilty that you have so much stuff? I do, but I still can’t bring myself to get rid of any of it. Why is that? I need your help! What thought makes this process easier? What is your motivation? What will it take to get you to tackle your clutter? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are you on the verge of the purge?

Start your life over today,

William