There’s something cathartic about moving. The dictionary meaning of catharsis is: 1.the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.” It is true that we become emotionally attached to things, or the idea of possession of things, and moving brings all the “stuff” of ownership to the surface with surprising results. For instance, the toy that a baby played with has special meaning; the dried rose kept from a baby’s baptism, the wedding gift from a now-unknown well-wisher for our first home, the railroad building that used to sit near the tall trestle on a layout thirty-five years ago, or the Christmas gift from a friend who died fifteen Christmases past.
The question is, when you’re definitely downsizing, is this item a remnant of an event I haven’t thought about for a long time until that item, whether a plaque, a dusty box on an infrequently opened cabinet, or something that matched the decor twenty-years ago and is no longer worthy of display–whatever it may be–no longer holds the emotional attachment to my soul and psyche that it once did? “(my, that’s a long sentence!) It’s time for it, and the long-lost attachment to it, to be jettisoned. I’ve given away numerous such items, and relegated others to Goodwill, or in extreme cases of “I just don’t want it any more, nor will anyone else,” to the black plastic bags of ignominy, the garbage pickup from the curb.
Catharsis is good, and when we are looking for a fresh beginning in our new apartment, we need to quickly forget the “letting go” of stuff and be refreshed by items that are important to us in the present: the latest LEGO creation from a grandchild, their latest painting or drawing to grace the very bare refrigerator door, the fresh towels that replace the friend’s gift with the monogram: “Betty, a vessel of God’s love” emblazoned in bold black lettering, or the outdated bottle containing the last hydrocodone from my hip operation. No need for that stuff any more, for sure.
Does that mean that when we unpack the umpteen boxes the moving company will hoist with sore shoulders that we are free from “the cleansing?” I think not. I know it was more convenient to throw things into boxes for further future evaluation. There will be more things thrown to the curb when precious storage in a 1200+ setting becomes precious. No. At least I’m in practice. If I’ve learned one thing in the previous ten moves, downsizing is painful at the moment of “get rid of that thing” because stuff becomes an anchor. Do I want to dust my mother-in-law’s delicate teacup no one ever drank from, or is it time for it to grace Nancy’s shelf? One day, she too will find it cathartic, and therefore freeing, to simplify and evaluate the worth of stuff, but for now, she said last night, “I’ve always loved that little blue cup and saucer.” And that makes me happy. She grew up with that little piece of history; I can let it go with pleasure and see it displayed among her treasures.
I suppose there’s a spiritual connection to this whole thing. The Greeks wrote tragedies about catharsis. The Bible says, “do not lay up treasures on earth where moths and rust corrupt, but lay for yourselves treasures in heaven.” I’d like to think I’m dissing “stuff”, but knowing myself, I know I will OOH and AAH Christmastime when someone gifts me with yet another nativity. After all, I once had nearly a hundred sets; now I may have ten super favorites. But when Christmas is over, they will be packed away, not to be seen in another annual visit in December. Meanwhile, did I miss seeing them? Or, will the families known and unknown treasure the “giveaways” with joy because they’re becoming part of new celebrations of the birth of Christ? I’m so hoping the latter is true.
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