It all started with the bike rack.
Now that I had a new car, I could no longer use my Yakima rack, which wasn’t compatible with my new hatch. As I dug it out of the back of my closet, I noticed all sorts of other outdoor gear I never use any more, as well as some newer stuff that still had the tags on. Skis, rock climbing gear, rafting stuff, ice axe . . . it was like a private REI sale in here.
I pulled out all of my adventure equipment and laid it on the floor. Then I emailed my outdoor friends and family, letting them know I was selling it for cheap. Rather than letting it keep gathering dust, I might as well make a few bucks, while at the same time, making other outdoor enthusiasts happy who know how expensive new gear is.
The email responses completely threw me for a loop.
“What’s up, getting rid of your wilderness gear? Changing your lifestyle?”
“Why are you giving up your outdoor self?”
“What happened to Adventure Laurie?”
Suddenly, I felt deeply sad. What had happened to Adventure Laurie? Was she gone forever? Was I just too old? I mean, really, when’s the last time I put on crampons and bagged a major peak? When’s the last time I’d even strapped on a backpack?
Selling my bike rack had turned into a full-on identity crisis.
For days, I agonized over whether or not to get rid of my adventure sports gear. I’m a purger, not a pack rat. So why was I finding it so difficult to let go of stuff that wasn’t part of my daily life–and hadn’t been for years?
Tripping over my telemark skis, a huge “aha” hit me: Getting rid of my old gear felt like getting rid of parts of myself–parts that I still loved and cherished, even though we hadn’t connected in a while.
Rather than giving my old self away, I needed to reclaim her. It was time to recapture and relive that joyful, free spirit who loved the Great Outdoors and was up for trying any adventure at least once.
Now the stuff sorting job became easier. Any outdoor sport or equipment I’d never fully enjoyed, that gear was for sale. (During my reclaiming process, it was equally important to let go of what didn’t feel like “me”.) For the rest, if there was even a glimmer of hope I might someday do that sport again (ideally with a hunky outdoor guy who’d like to join me), back in the closet it went.
Sheepishly, I emailed back those friends who wanted to buy the gear I’d reclaimed. Once again, their messages surprised me.
“Good for you!” was the overwhelming response.
© 2015 by Laurie B. Gardner
I recently retired and have decided to move back to the midwest to be near my kids and grandkids. Here in Oakland I have a spacious bedroom with a very long and roomy closet. Before moving here, I lived in a warehouse space in Berkeley for many years where I brought way more things in than I took out. As an artist it was cool to find objects and collect things that I may use for future projects. Many of those items followed me to my apartment in Oakland.
As I begin to pack and discard, plus go through old photographs, floods of memories from my 27 years in the East Bay wash over me. I have mixed emotions as I uncover aborted and unfinished art pieces along with once familiar faces from photos that I had forgotten.
****A sidebar: As old memories stirred, I was reminded of scores of incredible and amazing people I have encountered while living here. From the frivolous to deep thinkers, I’ve been so blessed by the cultures, philosophies, diversity, politics, and spirituality from the good souls making up the Bay Area.
I thought I would try to sell some of my more valuable items that no longer resonated. I took what I thought were nice clothes to resale clothiers, but didn’t get much in exchange. As a matter of fact, they bought very little from me as I soon realized that my attire was at least 10-15 past the cultural expiration dates.
After other futile attempts to sell items I thought worth something, I just decided it is less stressful and more rewarding to just give them away. I started putting things out on the street. Not everything got grabbed right away, but sooner or later vultures picked the area clean.
But the point I really wanted to make in this rambling comment is that it has been fairly easy to let these things go. In a transitional place change is happening. The adage says change is good–for sure, it is inevitable. As I welcome this change and look ahead to a new chapter, the grip of the previous ones, with all their sentiment and nostalgia attached, is easily loosened and falls by the wayside. Those moorings can’t hold me back from the flight ahead. In short, it is more exciting and fulfilling to flow with the ever changing course, than to be held back or tied down to the ‘once was.’
Wow, Nick, thanks for sharing! So many of us have been where you are…making a big life change, looking back at the people and memories, learning to let go…
You’re making this transition so gracefully, lovingly, and with such deep awareness. We’ll miss you here in the Bay Area. Here’s to your exciting, next chapter!
Thanks Laurie. I’ve enjoyed and benefitted from your pearls of insight. The very best to your new and old selves!
Thanks, Nick! Stay in touch…
Having lived in a small cottage for so many years I had a rule: when something comes in something goes out. Really helped me keep the clutter down. Still when I went to move, what a surprise all the things squirreled into crannies. Since I gardened by the square inch, I suppose I stored the same way. Can’t imagine what I would have faced without that rule!
I love that rule, Alma! : )
While not a pack rat, I purged several times recently, learning as I did so. As I was going through my divorce, I respectfully packed up all of ‘his’ belongings, ensuring that both – now single – households had all the basics and beloved belongings. Once surrounded by my ‘things’ I felt comforted, and airy…less is more!
After meeting my new love, I found myself painstakingly choosing the very favorite of my beloved belongings to move with me into his home, and sold, or gave away, the rest of my stuff as my home went on the market and to a new family. It felt good to do a second cleansing.
I now found comfort in our blended environment, and began to become acquainted with a new address, routine and surroundings. Do not get too comfortable…13 months after this most recent move, a fire destroyed our home. We lost all of his, hers and our possessions. It took only moments to realize that what we lost were ‘things’, what we had was eachother, and a new lease on life. We rebuilt, restocked and replenished. And, one of these days I’ll go through any new excess; as purging doesn’t feel like I am losing the past, as much as it feels that I will now be open to the future.
Wow, Amy, what an amazing story and what a powerful lesson.
Yes! It’s not about letting go of the past…it’s about opening to the future. That’s beautiful.