HELP!!!
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I am drowning in STUFF. Why you would ask. I came into this world with nothing. I was born into a family that had very little, well nothing much. My parents were immigrants barely scraping by. For years we lived that way, always the standard comforts a warm bed and such but nothing too fancy. Everything was used till it literally died and the life was sucked out of it. Although I can not remember feeling lack. Since the basics of what a person needs was provided. Clothes, food, shelter and the odd special outing.
As years went by and I grew and expanded my wings into my own world the Canadian Economy was booming. Since my parents always worked and had a respectable work ethic , they did just that. Work, and they worked hard. Money suddenly flowed into their lives. A reward for their efforts, and just like so many North Americans, they had in some small ways forgotten their European lifestyles and accumulating became almost like a mission. I am not sure why other than perhaps it buried the pain they carried so deeply in their souls. Perhaps it was important to show that a poor immigrant could actually make it and become successful in North America. Having lost so much of themselves during World War II, family, friends, homes and possessions, it seemed like they were always trying to capture something just out of arms reach. Never really being able to grasp it.
Being the insightful woman I am, I watched this evolve with admiration yes, but with pain. Admiration that they like so many were trying to move on from the destruction of war and live a peaceful life. Pain, because even I knew, that no matter what you own, or how much money you have in the bank, it will never replace what you lost. Your youth, your innocence, your homes and your families. While I spent my teenage years frolicking in water at nearby lakes, water skiing, camping and drinking with friends around a campfire, whisking down snow laden hills in the winter and generally not having a care in the world. This is not the case for youth living in a war torn land. My mother the oldest of 6, lost her father, left school at 13 to work and help feed the family. Living in a rickety worn out old house. Stories of ice on the inside walls has never left me. My father torn from his home and family and put into youth camps. (one of Hitlers tricks). Eventually ending up in a Prisoner of War Camp. Something he never recovered from.
Finally their retirement years came and with it a reward. Peace in a sense that they had worked hard and made something of themselves and built a home in the country. A delightful setting with a stream and a pond. Unfortunately the home was much too large for two. In fact it should have been for a family of eight. So what did they do? Why fill it of course. Every inch and every seam till it was bursting. Throwing something away or giving it away was unheard of. You never know..they would say..you never know. One day, something could happen, or someone will need it. You never know..Sigh...yes..you never know..
Well one day did happen, my father passed after a long illness and my mother has been comfortably moved into assisted living. Well now, what actually happens to all that STUFF? It is mine of course. So many times those are the words I heard . "Someday, this will all be yours." Never fully grasping those words. Knowing full well it was not what I really wanted. Well it really was all mine. However, I am drowning in the stuff. Give it away you say, sell it. All not that easy.
It took my husband and I and some friends and family members well over a year to empty the house and sell it. So what happens to all that stuff. Years and years of accumulations, from two young immigrants trying to forget the ravages of war. Two large dumpsters each weighing over two tonnes left. Four carloads of items taken by my friend to sell at a sale to raise money for a women's shelter. A large truckload was brought here a year ago. Two large truckloads taken by my daughter and hubby. My mother has a large comfortable two room apartment. Everyday we put stuff at the roadside for a passerby to use. We sold items and took a dozen loads to the local dump. Somehow you would think that was it. NO.!!!
So a large container was shipped to my home with items for myself and family here in Nova Scotia.
Now I am drowning. Drowning in stuff. Trying to keep something that has a special meaning for myself, my mother, or a relative that gifted the item. Certainly understanding that not all stuff has value. Several years back my husband and I decided to downsize and live a more simple and minimalistic life. It was wonderful. Free, inviting and suddenly I could breath. My old hippy soul was happy and thriving. Not a day goes by where my mother does not ask me, where is this, and where is that. I can not be the keeper of their life.
Where am I going with this? My quest for 2019. To donate or toss 5,000 items. Yes that is correct. You heard me. 5,000. As in Five Thousand. Since I cannot fix world peace, as much as I wish for it. I can put peace back into my home, my life, and my environment. In doing so I can help many many people. So many people that have nothing. Some of them immigrants as well.
Perhaps in some small way life will come full circle. That there is some dignity left to their lives. That my father's tortured soul will rest, that my mother appreciates that I can not keep it all. That I am honoring her by keeping certain very special items and that she is paying it forward and giving back to strangers who struggle and need a helping hand.
In some small way I am hoping that my 5000 items will make a difference. A small difference to a child, a mother, a parent, a home and a community.
I hope to revisit in December of 2019 and let you know how I accomplished my mission. In the meantime I wish nothing but good will and PEACE ON EARTH for all mankind. So in the words of John Lennon. IMAGINE.
NAMASTE
