I will live deliberately
I learned to decoupage this week. Cutting paper into shapes. That’s it. Nothing over the top. All I needed was paper, scissors, and lots of patience. #visitswitzerland
I had a conversation with a lady this week about stuff. She and I are about the same age, so I figured who could know more about stuff than two middle-aged women who had been through children and men and lived to tell the tale.
She seemed as disheartened with stuff - a.k.a. car payments, overly-decorated houses, taking trips that have no meaning, unexpected commitments, shopping for things you didn't need while working at a job you hated, etc. Things that really make no difference in my well-being or quality of life.
Oh, make no mistake, there was a time when the right car in the drive-way meant the difference between living well and barely living. The flashy metal was in a four-year cycle, trading on and trading up, which also meant more money each month. but who cared? I had a new car. that's what i was supposed to do, and boy, did I look great.
Once upon a time, in my drive-way sat an 11-year-old Saab that, god-willing, will get me from A to B without having a stroke. I kept up the maintenance which if I counted it up would probably equal a car payment - but still, that's random and I can live with random. I've never had a car this long, but I do fear the day, when old Bessie just can't belt out another chang-ching. I would miss her and my trepidation each time I climbed in. We've developed quite a relationship, and I think, we still have time to explore more. Sure enough, she gave out around 2015, and I watched her ‘ride’ away on a flat bed, off to a charity.
Today, the total years of vehicles sitting in my driveway would easily equal a century or more. Two antiques (1941, 1972), one mid-life-crisis muscle car (2002) and my Jeep (2013), paid for and going on 12 years.
People are keeping vehicles longer these days. they aren't as concerned with the frou-frou that once consumed our lives. There's a joy in simplicity. staying at home, saying 'NO' to things and meetings that really aren't that important. Leaving that charming artifact on the store shelves and asking a second time, 'Is it necessary?'
I ask that a lot lately. Is it necessary? Will this make me a better person? Is it worth my time? Am I selfish to put myself before what is expected of me? And this answer to all - is no.
By the time people reach my age, it is the person staring back in the mirror who must be the priority. If I can feel good about my decisions, or lack of ones, I will be just fine.
No more stuff for me. Nothing unless it's absolutely necessary. simplicity. Thoreau had the right idea when he escaped to Walden Pond - to live off the land with only the bare necessities. To live deliberately. To be himself, and not be concerned with what other people thought he should be.
I fixed the “job I hate” part of the sentiment. I love my photography and editorial work. For the rest of my life, I’ll tell stories in one way or another. Life is too short to do what you hate for people who are, at best, questionable. Now, I’m the boss.
I like to think my mountain in Hayesville as my Waldon Pond. As far as the eye can see, no one around. Even two years after our move, we continue to declutter and donate. It’s a process, one that we’re finding is never-ending. This is my happy place.
We would all be better if life included only what we truly needed.
