I don't know that I've ever even stopped by someone else's yard sale. I certainly don't recall my parents hosting one as we were growing up and moving around. I'm not sure what became of all the stuff we let go of as we relocated from one place to another. I don't think much of it moved with us. Unlike some folks I know, I can't pull out an item of clothing, a toy, a school trophy, or a memento of my childhood. Over the years, I've rescued some photos and stored them in a shoe box; proof that I existed on one level even as I now consciously experience the motion towards disappearing on another.
And hosting a yard sale I whole-heartedly recommend to all!
There's nothing like sifting through all the things one thinks of as valuable and important in their life and determining if an item is really worth maintaining, dusting, packing, boxing, moving, storing, and even insuring. I saw that most of my possessions remained in my life because I never looked at them very closely, I never assessed their true personal value. Even though most people would describe me as a minimalist, there are places in my home which accrued un-seen objects like dust bunnies under a couch. Closets, cabinets, basement shelves, drawers, and garages - these are the areas where we don't see things. Books can build up, words are never again read. Kitchen wonders migrate to the back of a cupboard, their usefulness non-existent. A t-shirt I once believed brought out the color of my eyes is permanently creased having migrated to the bottom of a stack; the t-shirts I actually wear make up the top quarter of the pile.
Such an interesting experience to ruthlessly go through everything I own and decide to keep only the things that are either: a) used on a regular basis; or b) cause my heart to swell with their beauty.
My sister, Corry and her partner, Dave were generous enough to travel down to New Hampshire this weekend, their visit timed with our moving sale. They both offered a ground and a presence to an experience which could have overwhelmed me both physically and emotionally. Corry has a natural ability to arouse another person's interest in something as well as a gift for beauty that allows her to stage things in a pleasing manner. The outside spaces of the home: the decks, patios, porches and garage became showcases for the stuff I was ready to release.
Once upon a time, these items were shiny bits in my personal view-finder; I saw in them something that I thought would make my life 'better' in some way; more comfortable, more beautiful, more efficient, or just easier. I held onto them because I feared that letting them go would cause me some form of suffering or lack. Over the years, this fear combined with inertia (and too many hiding places) culminating in an experience of heaviness and weight. Rather than make my life better, most of this stuff contributed to a feeling of being trapped, stressed, limited and loaded down.
Now I wonder if there isn't a correlation between holding onto stuff and holding onto beliefs. I wonder if the stuff in my life didn't serve as an anchor for the ideas I have about who I am, who I think I should be, and what is possible in Life. I walked around the perimeter of our home on Saturday in the morning hours before the yard sale began and I saw "me" everywhere. Objects held wonderful memories, of course, but there was more than just memories, there was a sense of my self and an attachment to a moment or an idea. Without knowing it, I had been accruing countless notions and stories of who I thought I was at various moments in my life and storing them like nuts for the winter in case, at some future date, I wanted to return to them and re-enliven their potential.
The day moved smoothly. After only an hour, I changed gears and moved from just wanting to sell things to people to more fully meeting a new person. It seemed a part of my history was resonating in this person's present moment. Rather than just making money, I began to feel feverish about nothing being left behind; it wasn't just that I didn't want to pack up remaining objects, I didn't want to hold onto them any longer - their time had passed.
It was also unbelievably gratifying to watch folks light up. "How much for the angel statues? My granddaughters will love them." "Perfect. I'm happy you found them." No need for money to change hands. My weight had become their uplift. Something that felt heavy to me became a source of joy for another - how magical is that?
I suppose I used to believe that the stuff of my life and my past could help me understand who I am. By holding onto it, I could see 'me' reflected all around me. I wonder now if I'm not more clear about who I really, really am after releasing it. I would wish this for all. I'm not against consumerism. I enjoy acquiring objects that move me in some way. Perhaps objects reflect something that moves in each of us at some moment in time. I enjoy sailing through this experience of Life with an open hand and an open heart, letting myself touch things and be touched by them. And letting go.
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