Living small: Cutting through the clutter

So many books, so little time!

After spending $5 to buy five books at the library's book sale last week, I am now faced with tough choices. Because I live in 600 square feet, I have one self-imposed rule: one new item into the house means one old item from the same category must find a new home. The naked truth: It's time to let go of five old books.

When you live small, too much stuff quickly overwhelms your space. I don't have to look more than three feet from where I sit typing these words to see an example of needing to find space for something new. My lovely flaming dragon roller skates from my fresh meat roller derby tryouts a week ago are still sitting jauntily on the living room floor because I do not have a space to put them. I need to let go of another pair of shoes in my closet to make room for my gorgeous purple dragons.


I am proud of myself for limiting my purchase to only five books when other bibliophiles were filling boxes with books. I'm looking forward to immersing myself in my new book-friends including "The Sea Runners" by Ivan Doig, "Reservation Blues" by Sherman Alexie and "The American Indians: The Woman's Way" by Time-Life Books, which is filled with photos, artwork and stories about Native American women.

A Quaker friend, Wess Daniels, coined my downsizing of December 2011 as my "involuntary simplicity." He was right. That exercise was the antithesis of mindful simplicity. Circumstances beyond my control (being laid off without warning and having two months to sell my house at the real estate market's lowest point and move into 600 square feet) forced me to rid myself of more than half of my possessions in six weeks. It was a painful, but necessary step in my journey.

The process of prioritizing a lifetime of possessions changed me forever. I can't go back to being the woman who held so tightly to things that I missed out on the joy of experiences. When you live in a three-story 2,400-square-foot house with three humungous attics, a basement, a garage and a storage shed, opportunities abound to collect "stuff and junk" as my Grandma Lydia called it. I was the Estate Sale Queen and was always hauling home new treasures.


Now, five moves later, I am the Queen of Downsizing. I practice voluntary simplicity. Friends have invited me into their homes to help them organize their basements and closets and to determine what stuff to let go. It's much easier to help others get rid of their possessions because I have no emotional attachment to their stuff.

But here in my cozy, small living room/study/dining room, it is time to make tough choices. I know I can do it. Six months ago, my adventurous friends Kalyn and Mat MacDonald emptied their house and moved to Alaska. I chose 12 books from their library, which meant I had to let go of a dozen of my books to make space for them.

Now I must do it again. Am I ready to let go of "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd or "People of the Book" by Geraldine Brooks? They are among my favorites, but will I read them or refer to them again? I know I am not ready to get rid of my childhood copy of "Trixie Belden," the adventurous, mystery-solving, horseback-riding tomboy who inspired me in my geeky youth. I already let go of a dozen other Trixie Belden books in my big purge. Is it time to release "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini? Decisions, decisions.

Although my too-many-books dilemma does not possess the life-and-death gravity of Sophie's choice or of Indiana Jones choosing the holy grail, it's still been painful to choose which five books I'm going to let go into the universe.

As I stare at my bookshelves, I hear the voice of the old grail knight: "Choose wisely."

A time to gather possessions, a time to let go

Before I die, there's going to be some 'splaining to do.

This circa-1920s beauty is no relation to me. So why do I display her photo atop my bookcases in my living room? I call her Lucretia because it suits her. She's wearing a fur collar and likely a cashmere sweater. Her finely coiffed tresses are smooth and chic--quite unlike my tomboy hair wrestled into a ponytail. Yes, she's far too polished to be hanging out in my family tree. In my downsizing mode, I've unearthed precious photographs I've collected of women taken around 1900, the 1920s and the 1930s. Lucretia and the women in the other photos are not my ancestors. They were estate-sale finds from the previous chapter in my life, when I was gathering possessions. But now, in my new chapter, I'm letting things go. Dozens of things. Hundreds of things. Yet I still hold onto Lucretia. Why? Odd, isn't it?

Then there's this youthful scholar I've named Margaret. But I'm sure her friends called her Meg. She is a modern 1920s teen not afraid to let the boys see that she's both brainy and beautiful. I'm hopeful she was gutsy and had amazing adventures in her lifetime.

And then we have the Bunny Girl. Her name hasn't come to me yet. However, I'm intrigued as to why she is holding two bunnies in her arms in her studio portrait. Were these bunnies her pets? Was it fashionable to have one's photograph taken while holding rabbits? I know the perfect name for the Bunny Girl will come to me--possibly in my dreams. Collecting these women makes complete sense to me. I am not planning on getting rid of them anytime soon. I am a writer, and the women in these photos will populate the novels percolating in my head.

However, this stern old man, who I've named Hezekiah, is still in my storage unit. I'm thinking maybe it's time to let go of Hezekiah as I continue to lighten my load. He's the one who really caught my attention when I recently was knee-deep in my storage unit getting rid of more "stuff and junk" as my Swedish grandma, Lydia Blomgren Smith, used to say. I now have no extra furniture in my storage unit. I have let go of an antique armoire, a 1930s green chair and my daughter's white metal twin bed. Mostly what remains are some papers, lots of photographs, camping gear and odds and ends. I've decided to wait until the first of the new year to tackle my remaining stuff and junk. In the meantime, if I'm hit by a bus, daughter, please note that none of these people are your ancestors. But they are dear friends of your eccentric writer mother.

Control your clutter--don't let it control you

Control your clutter before it overruns your life.

 

Is your life overrun with too much stuff? Are you overwhelmed with trying to unburden yourself?

Do you hold onto stuff with emotional ties? Clothes that are three sizes too small--or too big? Gifts you've never used but might someday?

Do you have bulging closets? Is your garage so stuffed with junk that you can't park a car in there?

Do you own so much stuff that you also pay rent on a storage unit? If so, you're not alone. Did you know that 8.96 percent of all American households currently rent a self storage unit? That's a whopping 10.85 million of the 113.3 million U.S. households in 2012, according to the Self Storage Association.

For six months, I've been plagued with the overwhelming task of downsizing my storage unit from a 10 x 20 unit to a 10 x 10 unit. Slowly but surely, I've been getting rid of stuff I no longer needed.

Every month when I paid my storage bill, I felt guilty. I felt I was wasting money renting a storage unit larger than I needed. But could I really squeeze it down to 10 x 10 feet?

Today, thanks to my friend and neighbor Bruce who pitched in to help me, we did just that. The impetus behind me finally doing this task is that my storage rent is increasing next month. After just a little more than two hours of work, the task was completed.

Most of the remaining stuff is stored in neatly stacked plastic storage bins with lids. I already had all these storage bins, but today I consolidated my stuff so it takes up less space.

As I swept the concrete floor of the empty storage unit, I looked at the cavernous space and hoped I'd never need to store such an enormous amount of stuff again.

We took a load of empty boxes to a nearby U-Haul storefront. Someone who is moving can use those boxes. I don't intend to move anytime soon. Last year, I moved three times in three months. In the past two years, I'd moved five times.

I have a few things to donate, including two throw pillows to a couch I donated three months ago. In December 2011 when I was laid off and had to sell my three story, 2,400-square-foot house, I started a practice of keeping a cardboard "donate" box near the front door or even in the car. It makes it easier to toss in things I no longer need and drop them off to my favorite thrift shop before I talk myself into keeping them.

Now everything I own fits into my 600-square foot apartment or my 10 x 10 storage unit. Even so, I still have too much stuff and will continue to lighten my load.

If I were still carrying the weight of so much stuff I no longer need, would I have found space in my life to reach out and become a new woman unafraid to paddle a dragon boat with the Mighty Women, beat an African drum, swing dance in a crowded pub, belly dance in front of a wall of mirrors and so many other adventures?

Before I pulled down the door on the smaller storage unit, I smiled. That bear of a task is done and no longer can haunt my dreams. Thanks, Bruce!

Simple Gifts

A Shaker song

'Tis the gift to be simple,

'Tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

It will be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,

To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed.

To turn, turn will be our delight,

'Til by turning, turning we come round right.

 .

Living large in 540 square feet: Clear the clutter. Find your life.

Six weeks ago, I downsized to a 540-square-foot artist's studio I've dubbed Wisteria Cottage. I never dreamed of living in such a tiny space that has no kitchen. Or bathroom. Yet here I am, living proof that smaller is better.

If I've learned anything in the past few years, it's this: Life is a big adventure and we really don't know what's going to happen next. So it's best to hang on and enjoy every minute of the ride.

Along the way, it's helpful to be able to fly by the seat of your pants. Go with flow. For me, that has translated to clearing the clutter and finding a new life.

Less than two years ago, I owned a four-bedroom, 2,400-square-foot house. Through a series of events both unfortunate and in hindsight, fortuitous, I had to sell that house and immediately empty its contents.

Six weeks ago, I moved for the third time in 18 months. My landlord was raising my rent. Most of my reduced salary was supporting a substandard apartment. This time, I downsized from an 1,100 square-foot apartment to a 540-square-foot artist's studio I've dubbed Wisteria Cottage.

Although I don't recommend this crash course in forced simplicity, in the long run, it's been very good for me. In the short run, it's been a wild, exhausting ride.

How do you edit a lifetime of belongings down to the essential? More importantly, how do you determine what's essential for you in this point of time? Might that list of essentials change over time, as one's life changes, ebbs and flows with the tide of family and responsibility?

In my big move 18 months ago, I had to give away a large portion of furniture I'd collected over the years. Now in the last move, I had to edit further.

Wisteria Cottage does not have a kitchen so I don't need a dining table. For now, my years of hosting large family gatherings seem to be behind me. I got rid of my garage sale dining table but kept a Craigslist find from two moves ago: a kitchen cart with storage, a food prep surface and two pop-up surfaces that make into a table. It fits the footprint and it works for my current lifestyle.

Most importantly, it's adaptable. Much like me.

Wisteria Cottage also does not have a bathroom. No running water. No sink. No shower. No toilet. The cottage is next door to the house where my daughter lives, so I share their facilities. I use their kitchen. I do my laundry in their house. And yes, in the wee hours, when I need to uh--wee--I use their bathroom.

Some people don't understand why I'd downsize this drastically. One friend compared my new lifestyle to that of the Unabomber! When a woman at work found out about my circumstances, she blurted out: "Are you okay with living in a shed?" Then she gave me the phone number for public housing. (I don't quite qualify, and I love Wisteria Cottage, thank you very much!)

I do not regret this decision to further reduce my footprint. I welcomed it as something I am supposed to learn how to do--and with joy and a sense of adventure.

Here's why I've become the queen of downsizing and change: First, I'm getting to spend more time with my daughter. That's a big bonus.

Second, I'm saving hundreds and hundreds of dollars a month. I've already been able to pay for needed car repairs I couldn't afford when I was in the apartment.

The breathing room with my finances also is allowing me to do more than just survive. I bought Keen hiking boots--on sale-- for an upcoming backpacking trip. My last backpacking trip was before I had children--more than two decades ago. I bought a sleeping pad for camping and already have camped more this summer than the past five summers combined. I bought an African djembe drum and have played drums around campfires under the stars. In short, I've rediscovered me and am living life to the fullest.

Downsizing from 2,400 to 1,100 to 540 square feet has changed me and my perspective on what I value. I'm learning what's really essential for my existence as well as my happiness. Although I didn't have to rent a storage unit, I still have too many boxes stacked up, awaiting further editing.

As I've downsized, here are the conversations I've had with myself: How many towels and washcloths do I need? How many books should I keep? How many pairs of shoes do I need? Throughout the move, the words I repeated most were: "I still own too much stuff. Why do I have all this stuff?"

Last weekend, I helped my 79-year-old mom move. She's also paring down her belongings and determining what she needs in her new stage of her life. We're helping each other determine what's essential.

Mostly, I've either given away belongings or packed them away until I need them again in my next stage.

Sometime down the road, I'm going to have the luxury of a bathroom and a small kitchen again. For now, I'm living large in the 540 square feet of Wisteria Cottage.

If you're like me, you own too much stuff. I challenge you to begin your own step toward simplicity by reading this book about "throwing out 50 things." Click here to learn more.

Are you ready to declutter your personal space as you determine what's essential in your own life? Who knows what adventures that might set into motion?

To read about an Oregon family of four living large in a 540-square-foot cottage on Sauvie Island, click here: