'Tis a Gift to be Simple, 'Tis a Gift to be Free

Too . . . much . . . simplicity . . .

So the Shaker hymn goes, and so my imagination runs wild several times a year with images of me sitting piously in a room with few earthly possessions, no more clothes and shoes than would fit into a single suitcase, and, unspoken though it may be, the ability to pick up my life and go anywhere at the drop of a hand-knitted hat. For anyone who knows me, and especially for my roommates who are occasionally able to push through the pile of clothes that currently sits in front of my bedroom door, this vision is so opposite of who I am on any given day that it's beyond laughable. It's more sort of . . . cry-able.

Still, I find myself once again yearning for simplicity (and really, is it any coincidence that this feeling is so strong on a day as ridiculous and contrived as Black Friday?). It occurred to me today, however, that I am actually at a critical point in my life during which the eradication of excess stuff would not only be possible but particularly beneficial. I am working in a fiscally distressed school district that would probably be most appreciative if I would assist them in a painless, attritional reduction in force (rather than the icky kind that involves this really angry lady yelling at everyone because SHE has to fire US). I have no idea what I will be doing next year- doesn't that sound like the perfect opportunity to get rid of the excess?

Wait- I already had these in beige? Embarrassing!

The problem is, I seem to have to talk myself into stuff like this. Repeatedly. And with increasing sternness. I gradually go from telling myself “Hey, my life will be better if I can get rid of all this shit I don't need!” to crying on the floor over a pile of Target shoes and lamenting that children in sweatshops are probably dying for my shoe-greed. And then, at the end of all this, I end up donating, like, a small grocery bag of old t-shirts to Goodwill.

Perhaps it is somewhat beneficial, then (albeit incredibly shameful), that I have actually reached a point where I don't know what stuff I have anymore. I don't mean in a totally insane “I have so many pairs of designer jeans that they've taken over my bed and I sleep on the couch!” kind of situation, but more like “why do I keep buying Ibuprofen and garbanzo beans when I have cabinets overflowing with containers of both?” And unless I am subconsciously stockpiling for some sort of apocalyptic plague of early-onset arthritis that can only be cured by hummus, it seems like this problem would be cured by a simple perusal of the cupboard and an old fashioned grocery list.

This is the way the world ends . . .

In fact, it seems like a lot of my stuff could be dealt with by a fairly regimented system of going-through and using/cataloging/discarding. Why is that so hard? Because honestly, I'd probably rather play Ultimate or sleep or watch an unfairly cancelled sci-fi TV show on my computer. But, as I have learned after years of procrastination, the joy gleaned from these activities is eventually overshadowed by the looming presence of Stuff, both known and unknown (and do I have a pair of zebra-print ballet flats? And if so, have I ever worn them? Seriously . . .)

This realization has, I hope, given me that extra push that I need to slay my personal Stuff Beast. Obviously I understand that I'm human and I make mistakes and I may very well accidentally buy some awesome shoes made by starving children in a third world country. But seriously- who doesn't know what stuff they have? Even if it is just four different bags of brown rice and three different pairs of casual brown shoes- it's still kind of embarrasing.

Brown rice. I have got some.

So, dear readers (ha! It's funny because no one reads this because I never update it . . .), I have decided to revive the blog YET AGAIN in an effort to chronicle the next few months and my quest to destroy the Stuff Beast. Updates to come. Also, free homemade hummus to anyone who has suggestions on life-simplification! And lives in my neighborhood!