The Art of Minimizing

I'm not what you might consider a "hoarder."  At least I hope not!  But I think it's fair to say I am a "holder" since I've been holding onto more than my fair share of junk over the years:

• Artifacts:  things I've saved from childhood and told myself I couldn't get rid of only because I've held onto them this long. 

• Trophies:  things I acquired at various monumental points in my life that I believed were somehow necessary for defining who I am or was. (Note that these are not actual trophies, since they did not even hand out pity awards for my degree of athletic ineptness.)

• Gifts:  things I never would have brought into my personal space on my own but felt too guilty to clear out because they were "given" to me. 

• Status symbols:  things I relied on to legitimize me in the mind and eyes of others and therefore couldn't risk parting with.

• The "just in case" pool:  things I never, EVER use but was convinced I'd need again someday when my life is bigger and more exciting. 

I'm not sure if my sudden shift in perception was catalyzed by the restorative weekend that proceeded it or another unexplained force, but on Monday morning, I woke up with profound clarity (and, for once, I didn't require guidance from my animal friends to obtain it).  In this clarity, I saw that the things I've listed above have become nothing but physical manifestations of emotional clutter.  They don't serve me, nor do the tragically flawed thoughts they inspire.

Since it's all connected (what isn't connected?), I also saw how my pattern of "holding" has been weighing me down on just about every level for quite some time.  Besides the obvious disrupting of chi flow, the fact that I had so much physical stuff made it virtually impossible to consider relocating anytime soon--I was tethered to my current apartment.  Many of these items were painful reminders of previous partners or points in my life I'd just assume forget and yet I wouldn't allow myself the space to let go and heal--I was pinned in powerlessness.  The items I did enjoy but for the wrong reasons were a mere facade--I was entangled in a false sense of stability and happiness.  And given all this, it's no wonder I've still been struggling with my metabolism (and wielding incredulous stares at my curvy figure when people learn that I'm a vegan.  Apparently we're supposed to be like really, really skinny or something).  

I've been releasing myself from these burdens with insane momentum this week.  Every time I sell another item on Craigslist or fill another box for donation, I'm inspired to see what else I can stand to purge.  The most amazing thing is I'm not overwhelmed or remorseful like I always envisioned I would be if I said goodbye to personal affects.  I'm increasingly uplifted.  Giddy.

 

NOW do you get it?, George asked me as I was taking another pass through the living room with scrutinizing eyes. 

"Get wha...." It clicked before I got the whole question out.  "Oh!!"

George is the epitome of a minimalist.  He wants nothing he deems unnecessary in his dwelling space, despite my persistence in providing toys and chews and other "rabbit gear" in abundance.  So he cleared the clutter the only way he could--he ate it.  He completely devoured anything from twine balls to plastic litter trays to parts of his habitat.  

See?  Whatever you think you need, you need even less!, he said, thrilled that I finally understood why I could never break him of his random gnashing (and would finally stop giving him more crap to have to randomly gnash on).  And you'll be sooooo much happier that way.   

Even though I'd figured this one out largely on my own, I was relieved to have George's reassurance as I continue to lighten my load.  

AND, I was also grateful that I didn't have to eat my clutter to get it out of here.   Perspective is everything.