It seems like in the building where I live, someone is always moving in or moving out. Rarely is there a day that goes by when there aren’t boxes being shuffled in and out of the side door to a waiting van. Moving isn’t fun. It’s tedious, monotonous work that can strain both body and spirit. It can test your resolve, your fortitude, and maybe even a friendship or two!
For all its drudgery, moving is a process that allows you to, at the very least, take stock of what you have. While relocating, you may discover relics from a chapter of your life that has long since closed or unearth the remnants of a once bountiful collection that has rusted, faded or warped with age. In my last move, three years ago, I came across a ragged and torn picture of the band RUSH that they had personally signed for me on my 40th birthday. It said, “happy birthday, old man”. As I close in on 60, I miss being an old man of 40!
When we move, whether we are down-sizing, up-sizing, or side-sizing (I made that up), we realize a truth about ourselves: that we are collectors. We all have stuff that in some form or another both tells our story and shapes our identity. The sheer amount of stuff that we have may differ from person to person, but we all have our “things” that tell the tale of who we are, where we have come from, and what we value. Imagine if someone had never met you but was tasked with forming an opinion about you based on being allowed to spend two hours going through all the things that you own. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see what they came up with? Would the identity they claim for you based on rifling through your treasures be the same identity that you claim for yourself?
Three years ago, when I moved from a decent-sized house to a one-bedroom apartment, I made a conscious decision to relocate with as little “stuff” as possible. I’m not a minimalist by any stretch of the imagination, but you might be surprised at how little I have. Even a lack of items, though, can tell someone something about you. If you stood in a corner of my place and looked around you would see golf clubs and a curling broom propped in a corner, a fairly crammed bookshelf, A coffee maker, a giant picture of a grizzly bear sleeping on a log, a nutcracker wearing a Toronto Maple Leaf sweater, a bowl containing several Tim Horton’s gift cards (each with less than $2 on them), a candle that promises to smell like the beach but actually smells like popcorn, a stack of un-opened mail (I’m getting to it), and two plants, one that promises to only bloom at Christmas. What does that tell you about me? I’m not sure I want to know!!
Sometimes we all think that we should purge. And sometimes we should. But remember, the stuff you have is part of your story. It’s a part of you. Maybe don’t wait to move to revisit it. Houses can hide some pretty sweet secrets!!
