Traveling Light
How many of you have ever been asked the hypothetical question: “If you could only take one thing with you … , what would you take?” Maybe you’ve tried to answer this question. You might have gone for a witty answer or an honest answer, but you probably didn’t think about this as if it were for real. But … what if it were? Could you make this decision?
I was asked to make something like when, 3 years ago, I up and decided to move to Crete. I had completed a 4-week intensive TEFL training course and returned to the States to pack up my life (literally) and decide, “Where in the world will I go next?” But almost more daunting than choosing where I would go next was the task of “What am I going to do with all this stuff?”
I was 30 years old. And while I didn’t have a husband and kids to worry about, I did have a car, two kitties and an apartment full of furniture accumulated over the previous 8 years. When I made the decision, therefore, to head out to unknown lands my task was this: to whittle all my possessions down to two suitcases and a carry-on. Simple, no?
It is amazing the kind of perspective that this gives you on your life and your stuff. Suddenly you are confronted with the meaning and value of everything, and you begin asking yourself a series of questions that get right down to the final question: Does this stay or does this go?
I found that my paring down came in a series phases, each with its own set of questions. I’d like to share them with you. They went something like this:
Phase One ~ Determining Purpose
- Question 1: What purpose does this object serve? Most things in our lives have a purpose, a use. Our iron presses our clothes and makes them straight and neat. Our tea kettle prepares the hot tea in the mornings. Our clothes protect us from the elements, but they also shape our identities, make us fashionable, or hide us from others if that’s what we want. It is up to us to determine why we use each of these things. This also leads to Question 2 …
- Question 2: Does this object still serve its purpose? I don’t know about you, but I am a pack rat extraordinaire. I am very good at clinging onto things that are long past their Last Date of Operable Use. I think, “I’ll fix it” or “I’ll sell it in a yard sale and at least get a little something back for it,” but three years later it is still sitting on the shelf in my storage closet–broken and not garnering me the $.50 I’d hoped for.
- Question 3: Did this object ever serve its purpose? This question is the other side of the coin for Question 2. Not only do I like to hang onto useless objects after they’ve served their purpose, I apparently also have an affinity for accumulating things that I will use to do this or that. Three years ago this was no more apparent than in my craft box = a big Rubbermaid® container of ribbons, bows, hot glue guns, baubles, miniature vases, dried flower arrangements, terra cotta pots, etc. All of these were purchased for those little homemade gifts I was going to be making all the time for friends and family. Truth be told, a few of these gifts did get made and were cherished by the receivers. But the vast majority of those Only In My Dreams gifts still sat in raw form in the bottom of this plastic container, and I was forced to acknowledge this sad fact and that these would not be coming with me to Greece.
- Question 4: Will this object serve a future purpose? This is not exactly like Question 3, although it leads directly from it. Occasionally, I have been known to purchase something with a bit of actual foresight, anticipating that having it will come in handy one day. Less occasionally, I have been right and said object has served said purpose. Most of the time, though, these For Future Use items suffer the same fate as the Only In My Dreams gifts. They are never used and just become clutter on my already too-full storage shelf.
- Question 5: Will this object be useful where I’m going? When I was packing up house to move to Crete, not only was I confronted with determining the purpose of so many items, I was also faced with deciding if these very same purposes would be valid in my new life. This requires judgment of a different sort: understanding the here and now but also anticipating the yet to come. Yes, perhaps my Car Emergency Preparedness Kit of first aid items, distilled water, and kitty litter was a good idea in the States. But would it really be handy when I was living somewhere where I’d have no car and where there is no snow? Probably not.
As I sorted through my items in this way, I saw the heap of stuff around me slowly begin to diminish. But there were still far too many things to take with me–certainly far too many for a mere three suitcases–so I proceeded on to the next two phases.
Phase 2 ~ Determining Value
Value is a tricky thing because it can be both objectively and subjectively determined. We ascribe value to the “things” in our lives in different ways. Some things have a monetary value reflected in how much we’ve spent on them, how rare they are, or how much they are now worth. But many of our things also have an emotional value as well, a sentimental value and, again, this is often reflected in how rare these items are and what emotional attachment we ascribe to them. As I looked at the familiar objects around me–the beloved books, my favorite CDs, the Christmas ornaments I’d lovingly collected over the years–I had to acknowledge that these had a great deal of sentimental value for me, even if not monetary. But I also had to acknowledge something else, which led me to my last phase of questioning.
Phase 3 ~ Determining Cost (or burden)
At the end of the day, when you’re off on a journey (or moving house or doing anything that has demanded you take nothing but the bare essentials), the purpose or the value of something must be measured against its cost or weight. If something is too heavy or bulky or awkward to lug around with you, it’s going to become a burden rather than a help. It will be the lifejacket that becomes a millstone. And if that’s true, it’s best not to take it with you.
Over a period of several weeks, I engaged in this daily process–packing up boxes but more often selling items or giving them away. In the end, I finally managed to whittle down my worldly possessions to three suitcases (and a carload of boxes that I left at my mom and dad’s). That was it. I was free.
The reason I go into all of this today is because I have seen (and been a part of) a lot of recent discussions about the clutter in our lives and our desire for things. How do we determine our needs and wants? How do we know when to let go of something? How can we declutter and make ourselves more free?
In responding to one of these posts (Positively Present’s ‘the grass is always greener … or is it?’), I answered that the notion of traveling light had been of infinite help to me. I like this notion because it involves some core ideas, the main of which is that we are travelers. Despite our actions to the contrary (sedentary lifestyles, “permanent” homes), there is still in all of us the nature of the nomad. Whether we physically journey throughout our lives or not, most of us still engage in the spiritual journey. And it is fitting that we be reminded of this from time to time. When was the last time you looked at your life and asked yourself:
Am I where I want to be?
Am I progressing in the way that I want to be?
When you begin asking yourselves these questions, one of the things to consider is not just where you’re traveling and whom your traveling with but what you’re traveling with. How much baggage have you taken with you?
Maybe you are trying to scale a mountain but you’ve packed an RV full of luxuries and gadgets. Reaching the top of that mountain will be infinitely harder with these things (and with the RV) than if you carried with you only what was necessary and good, only what you can carry.
I realized as I wrote these questions out today that most of the questions I’ve asked myself about physical things are also questions that we can apply to the non-physical things in our lives as well: jobs, relationships, family life, our pasts. So I leave them with you in the hopes that you, too, can begin to whittle down the extraneous and find yourself with a core of what is good and true for you in your own life.
For me the past three years have been a continued practice in Traveling Light. And they have been remarkably freeing. I have moved three more times since returning to Greece, and each time I am relieved to know that most of my things can fit in three suitcases full, that the extra stuff I have garnered is usually dispensable, and that it is possible to live on less. The Universe does supply our needs if we trust that it will do so. And we “need” remarkably less than we think.
I have also learned to apply this “sifting through” to the other areas of my life as well and have found myself much happier for it. I hope you can do the same.
Can you “travel light”?
Traveling mercies.
