The Romance of the Move

(Pop-up Camping: another way to experience the joy of "the move" and lack.)






Yesterday, I began de-cluttering my house by cleaning out double closets in my study. Inspired by the fact that my dad and his wife are (probably) moving back to California from Colorado this summer, I decided to ask myself the following question for each item I considered keeping, storing, selling or tossing:

Do I want to move this some day?

Unlike my dad, I'm not moving this summer. But I DO have what I would call a RELATIONSHIP with moving. That is, I have, in the past, loved moving. The romance, I know, comes from my essential being, which desires change, newness, and heart-pounding risk. As well, my love of the move centers on my well-hidden and yet powerful (even abiding) interest in minimizing my possessions. The move, in my experience, brings all these things to fruition.

For you see, even if time or energy does not permit the expulsion of material goods before the move, lack of time and energy after the move will certainly facilitate the illusion of such expulsion for at least a couple of months. Hence, if I avoid unpacking too much, I can at least FEEL as if I have less. And this lack--this simpleness--this smoothness in the essential work space devoid of personal objects--is, I find, cleansing.

So, though it is my desire to move SOME DAY, I stay put and accumulate while giving myself (now) respite from materialism through the act of therapeutic de-cluttering.

"Do I want to move this some day?" I ask myself as I extract bits from past projects I adored, students I once worried over and clothes I keep for sentiment's sake.

And quite often the answer is: "No, I don't want to move THIS, but I DO want to move."