The accumulation of thirty eight years, six months, twenty days, eleven hours and forty-nine minutes can get a little weighty. One of the main reasons for my recent sojourn from blogging was because I moved out of my apartment of eight years.
In my blog about stuff I pondered the nature of stuff and the emotional attachment to it. Such naval gazing got flushed down the pan as push came to shove and I had to give the keys back on my apartment.
So what happened to all my stuff?
Well, I had a rather unsuccessful garage sale. Many people who claimed to be interested suddenly vanished. That morning I went into completely meltdown thinking that the end of the world as we know it had arrived and I was about to the sucked into some hideous vortex where I was surrounded by parental versions of myself tellimg me, “I told you so.” I refer to this beast as the Crazy Libran Man that lives inside my head. I’ve found it best that I let this person out during quiet times when no one is around. Unfortunately my brother got to see him in full flight!
Once I had calmed down and taken a razor to crazy Libran Man, I really didn’t have much time to process or think about what I was doing. Virtually the things that have I have a deep emotional connection to had already been wrapped in bubble wrapped, boxed and sent of to live with a dear freind. A lot of my stuff I sold at ridiculous prices and in a “but wait there’s more” frenzy. The rest I simply gave to charity shops. One personal friend suggested that maybe my initial expectations of the garage sale may have been too high. She could be right.
My desk that I used was my Dad’s. It was over thirty years old. But please realise that age in this instance by no way meant that it was an antique. Parts of the wood veneer were chipped and peeling. Some of it still bore the remains of my crafty artwork as a child.
As I unloaded it off the ute outside the charity shop, a young woman walked passed and looked at it like Christmas had come. She needed a desk in her new flat that she and her boyfriend had just moved into. With a quick call to him, they had what they needed at no cost. Her joy was enthusiastic.
I also found several people in my apartment were very giving of their time and vehicles to help me move the unwanted stuff on, without requiring any payment. These random acts of kindness made me realise that on this journey I have embarked on that there are all these wonderful people offering me shelter and food at no expected cost.
So giving to the world my unwanted stuff seemed only the right thing in the end. Some say naively, I have come to a very karmic realisation that this is the time to give something within the cycle of giving and receiving. It’s amazing how untethered I feel being able to head off into the world without the attachments to the stuff I take for granted.
What excites me most is that I am embracing the digital age. So my CD collection is gone – except for the odd few that I decided to keep that came as presents or as a life long collection. Everything is now on MP3 and backed up. Most of my sheet music is now in PDF, the hard copies in the recycling bin. Plays and Scripts are also in digital form. What a freedom to carry around all this material on a small flash drive device!
I became quite brutal with my decision with what to keep and what to chuck in the last week of my time in Melbourne. And I have to say, I don’t miss it at all. And with the smile and joy that I gave to those people in need, I do feel all the better for it.