Unpacking a Repackaged Life

Life’s Full of Options

I spent the first half of this year living out a once in a lifetime sabbatical, traveling, writing and meeting incredible people. That also meant living without most of my possessions. Last year, around this time, I began to pare things down, donating and trashing household items and clothes. I also gifted a few martini glasses, sold the sleeper couch and finally found a good home for the 20-year armoir that’s lived me with on three of the five great lakes. Coming up on a decade in Cleveland, it was time to rethink things, some of which were, frankly, quite old and no longer served their purpose.

Not only did I want to travel light, but I also wanted to categorically shift the energy of my present and my future, internally and externally.

Kitchen Confidential – In my own place, again, as I’ve been unpacking my boxes, deciding what stays and what goes, I’m realizing that as much as I parted with in 2013, now in my new skin, even more will have to go. Those piles have already started growing. My kitchen items have all found a space in the cabinets and I reached the conclusion that the stunning and formal dishes that my late Grandma gifted me exactly 20 years ago will now be my everyday dishes. As my friend Kristine reminded me, “Who are you waiting for? The Queen of England?”

Shmatas, Shmatas, Shmatas – Washing, folding and hanging my clothes – mostly black –  I can honestly say, it’s amazing how little fabric now consumes my closet. Granted there’s a few boxes of stuff my family is driving over in a few weeks, mostly sweaters and the winter wardrobe I wore in Chitown during this year’s Polar Vortex, there isn’t a single item of Corporate America present. I don’t own even a business suit. Not one. There’s two or three pairs of mid-heeled shoes, but beyond that it’s sandals, walking shoes and gym shoes. Today’s life is about quick, simple dressing decisions and about the comfort – the comfort to continue a pedestrian life, one where I either walk a mile or two or three or hop on a bus and then walk a few blocks to wherever or whomever I gotta see next.

My Own Private B&N – Of all the things in boxes I didn’t have access to for six months, it was the books, music and films that I craved most. And, while there’s no bookshelves, yet, to hold them, they’ve since been dusted off, organized and stacked in neat piles on the floor. This is my personal B&N. My personally curated global culture. Also a fraction of what it once was. But it’s here, with me. And yes, given that today we have so many different streaming choices – thank goodness for Netlfix and Slacker – there’s still something to be said for watching or reading or listening to your favorite, as Tony Soprano would so eloquently put it, “whatevah the f*ck” knowing that it’s accessible to you, 24/7, commercial-free. You’re not at the mercy of the ever-changing global licensing deals.

There’s no gratification more instant that enjoying what you already have.

HG&ME – One accent piece – the beautiful globe my Sis customized for me years ago – and the expensive and ergonomic mesh computer chair that I got on triple discount at Staples back in in 2009, were the only two pieces of furniture that survived the Great Purge of 2013. I love both, for very different reasons. One keeps my back happy.  The other reminds me that there’s always more travel to do. Beyond that, it’s just an air mattress. My very generous and wonderful friend Brad, in his own paring-down stage, gave me his uber comfortable couch, loveseat and ottoman. He also parted ways with his armoir and TV, which now stand in my guestroom. The couches have provided wonderful sitting room for the folks that have stopped by so far. But I also learned that I can’t actively do anything while on either the crazy soft couch or loveseat: new-found narcolepsy takes over.

I actually fell asleep watching Breaking Bad. And I love Breaking Bad.

This Chair Can Fly – The only piece of furniture I’ve bought so far is the above-picture vintage wingback reading chair and matching ottoman. I found this as a fund-raiser/auction that I attended with Kristine and just loved it. Something about it reminded me of the reading chair I enjoyed at Oscars cafe in Dublin. I have a new-found love for the wingback chair design and this one provides the perfect view. Brad helped me position it so that, via my balcony, I can see St. James Church, all of Lakewood and the City of Cleveland, with a sliver of Lake Erie in the horizon. This daily view, ever-changing and in constant motion, provides the constant inspiration and fuel to get work done. Because there’s so much that must be done, not just during the renaissance of the city that welcomed me back with open arms, but in the real spinning globe that is begging for peace and for healing and for restoration.

Make Storage Peace. Not War. – There’s still several boxes I have yet to unpack, most labeled, “Office.” Somehow I managed to run my company for half a year without these things, so it’ll be interesting to see whether or not I actually will need them. Whatever they are. I’m also refraining from hanging anything on my walls currently labeled as “Art.” Some of these framed or canvased images have traveled with me city-to-city, apartment-to-apartment since the Clinton Era. Perhaps it’s time to look at new things my walls? Perhaps it’s time to paint the walls?

Perhaps it’s time to add color to my predominately black wardrobe?

Future History – One theme that seems to prevail in this momentum to move forward: I’m leaning more and more on physical objects that are part of the past, someone’s past, whether mine or a family member’s or a friend’s or even a stranger’s. Something is pulling me to, slowly and methodically, furnish this apartment, my new home, with items that have a sense of history, of previous life, and with a tale to tell. Perhaps this is the subconscious mind’s attempt to return to what is a perceived simpler time? Perhaps it’s because I don’t want anything factory-made in China? Or maybe it’s because having lived with so little for so long I’m simply content cultivating the new life with selecting only that which I love and what is really good? And what’s really good takes time, takes patience and is the opposite of everything that is sparkly, instant and disposable. What’s good may not give you all the answers you want right now because only time will prove its real worth.

Traveling light paved the way for living light.

Just as deliberate as I was in 2013 about what no longer worked, today, each day, I’m being as disciplined about what or who is now allowed in.  I’m living with less things, less people and less worry. And, yet, life feels far more satisfying, more authentic and more happy.

Peace.