Clearing

I've started the clearing.
I seem to need loud music to do it properly.

It is surprising how much is wrapped up in an old sweatshirt.  
I've had it for years, and not worn it for a long time.  I forgot it was there, and 
when I took it out I remembered its comfort , how many times I would throw 
it on just to stay warm, to feel protected, to take the dog out, to run and pick up 
the kids from somewhere.
And I smell it, and hold it, then I fold it, and it goes in the "give away" pile.

And shoes.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have a weakness for shoes.  Maybe it's 
the Montrealer in me.  But I can't take 13 pairs of shoes with me, and in fact 
now that I'm really looking at them, I see that I haven't worn half of them for 
3, 4, 5 years.  And that these ones have a sole that's coming apart - I've held on,
thinking I'd get them repaired for sure.  Gone. And those ones have always 
hurt to wear - why did I ever buy them?  Gone.  Oh, right, these ones have a hole 
in the heel, and the water always comes in and soaks my socks.  Gone.

Socks.  I have a basket of socks.  A big basket.  How did I get so many socks?  
And when will I ever wear them?  I also have a basket of winter scarves, and 
a basket of summer scarves.  
Not to mention the journals.
And books.

Humbling. 
I always thought I was a minimalist.  How did this happen?
I've only barely started.  
It feels good.  And risky, somehow.  
I suppose there's always a risk in letting go.
Which is what this is about, really.  Letting go.  Trusting.  Believing that I can 
do with less.
That I will be safe. 


Wayfarer, the only way 
is your footsteps, there is no other.
Wayfarer, there is no way.
You make the way by walking…..
                           Antonio Machado