Travelling Light-er

I used to be a sentimental hoarder of many precious treasures. As a child everything, as far as I was concerned, had feelings and certainly invoked memories and strong emotions in me. I come from families, as I’m sure many others do, where certain objects have been bestowed at different milestones on the next generation. A passing of the baton, if you will. Whether attachment to objects was a result of early childhood loss, boarding school years, or just my love of stories, it is true to say that sometimes bearing so many ‘things’ has weighed me down. It doesn’t help that in my adult life I have lived in three countries, five cities and eleven houses to date! So, now, every school holidays I take the opportunity for a big clear out.  This means at our house there’s a spring clean, an autumn clean, a summer clean and a winter clean!

My husband and children do not share my strong minimalistic tendencies. The following scenarios are based on true stories: Shoes sitting unworn in the bottom of the wardrobe for five years got thrown, only to be needed for an emergency work meeting with The Bigwigs the very next week. A guitar played twice since it was bought was suddenly needed when someone decided on a whim to take up strumming. I cop the blame for these dearly departed items, and willingly so.
The decluttering started in earnest when I had three babies under four years of age. I soon learned that less clutter = less stuff to clean.  Surfaces empty of paraphernalia look tidy. I fell in love with the illusion of neatness whereas it had previously escaped me.
Thanks to the popular rise of Marie Kondo, The Minimalists and other simple living bloggers I felt validated in my trendy way of living. However, what to do about all those really, really special items? 
If you’ve ever poured over photo albums of any length of time or sifted across the belongings of someone dearly loved but no longer living, you will understand the tide of emotion welling to the surface as memories are triggered. Some are wonderful and some are traumatic. The idea of turfing out grandma’s teapot, even if it does have a chip in the spout, is terrifying. What if you need it again, what will the rest of the family think?
Like many online minimalists suggest I started small - chucking out ripped towels, tired toys, and donating clothes I was sick of.  Books were the next thing. I use to want an entire room filled to the ceiling but after moving heavy boxes around several houses the cost and effort outweighed the goal. Now I have about ten life-shaping favourites that stay on the shelf, otherwise if you come over and see something you like, it’s yours!  Stories are meant to be shared and enjoyed (and I apologise to authors for undercutting your profits…)
There is an environmentalist edge to the process as well. The War on Waste  is an interesting documentary highlighting the huge cost in terms of pollution and rubbish on our planet if we don’t revert to some of our grandparents’ ways of mending, making do and repurposing. 
So the idea, I guess, once you’ve managed to get rid of your huge pile of crap – I mean treasure – is to make sure not to have to do it again. I have since discovered there is a measure of financial freedom to be gained as a side bonus. 
Here are some of the ways I have managed to lighten both the physical and mental load:

• Made a book – I interviewed family members about their memories and wrote them down, scanned old photos and took new ones of sentimental stuff and collated it all on Snapfish.

Available to flip through at any time and takes up a fraction of the space.

• Took my mum’s vintage jacket that was always too big for me and donated it to the Salvation Army, hopefully so someone else can stay warm in winter.
  
• The sewing machine that my mother made all my clothes on but kept jamming despite two services was thrown out. Kept the awesome, still functioning Kenwood mixer and use it to make cakes with my kids.
  

Still works, still in use.

• Face the fear of losing something and wear the jewellery anyway. I use the precious china and the cutlery every day.
  
• Do the weird Kondo thing of thanking my old clothes before sending them out for recycling or rag-making.
  
• Go through my kids’ wardrobes and cupboards with them and let them decide what to keep and what someone else might like. It soon becomes clear when last year’s jeans are tried on that having ankles showing is not the preferred look.We also have a ‘one in, one out’ policy.
  
• Display, use and share the things that 'spark joy' on a regular basis.
  

Like Wills and Kate, Harry and Meghan will be toasted with a cuppa from my Gran's 1953 tour souvenir cup and saucer.

• When I go shopping and I see something I like I hold it, enjoy it and usually end up putting it back if it’s ornamental because I don’t want to dust it.
• I calculate how many hours of work I have to do to pay for an item against how many hours of enjoyment I will get out of it. Sometimes it doesn’t add up.
  

OK, so I'm not a purist! Lambikins greets visitors and doesn't have to share his shelf with anything else. He's a nod to my NZ origins.

• I don’t generally go shopping if I can help it because I don’t like malls – but that’s just me and everyone is different.
• Spending time with someone is the best present I can give or receive, and as many loved ones live in different States and countries this is another reason to put stuff down - airfares aren't cheap when there's five of you!
  

I’m hoping my simple approach to living will rub off on the husband and kids. Most of the time they just think I’m lovable and a bit weird, and when they can’t find something because I’ve thrown it out already, annoying.

Still at a bit of a loss over what to do with this one-metre portrait of me as a five year old, given to me because my parents needed the space on their wall...