Purity Made Simple

I have a huge box of expensive face soap from Nordstrom. It's been sitting in my "extra toiletries" container for a year now, mostly because as soon as I invested in the 32-oz bottle, the darn soap stopped working on my acne. But I spent a lot of time and money making sure I had a great face soap, so I really don't want to throw it out. Even though I can't use it. Of course, these things are cyclical. I might be able to use it in another month or two. You never know.

I'm having similar experiences with many parts of my life just now. For example, as soon as I announced that I actually had full time employment with the Foundation/Farm... they ran out of money to pay me. But I spent a lot of time, energy, and gas money making sure the Foundation and Farm were as functional as I could make them, and investing myself in the visions and goals they espoused. So even though they can't pay me, I'm having a hard time letting go. And you never know-- they might be able to pay me again in a few months...

The face soap says "We come into this world with all the right instincts... and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed." To return to this natural state of instinctual well-being, the soap insists that "we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleaning."

So here I am. Going through everything I own and figuring out what is dirty or just taking up space and energy without giving me any bliss in return. Cleaning up my life, a little bit at a time. I'm also job-hunting... again... and figuring out where I'll live come January. Because I can't afford the rent where I'm living now-- even if I do get another job. I have to use the bulk of my money paying off all the debts I racked up while I failed to make ends meet over the past four years. So a huge part of my process is cleaning up and simplifying my finances. Seeing a debt counselor. Talking about bangkruptcy. Finding ways to pay the people who can't wait.

The blessing that keeps showing up in my life is my friends. I feel so supported and loved. Over and over again, as my situation bounces up and down over and over again. It's amazing how many truly awesome people I know. And I don't think I'd have understood that (or had the same list of friends) four years ago when I thought the world was going to be my oyster.

The books have been the toughest thing to winnow down. And I know I'm not done yet. The first thing I did was decide I can only afford the space for one bookshelf right now. So all the books I'm going to keep with me, and all the things that sit on a surface and take up space, have to fit on that one bookshelf.

As I weighed the value of each book, and the space it fills in my life vs the space available on that one bookshelf, I realized that I don't re-read quite as many books as I like to think I do. Mostly, I think of many of these books as old friends, and it makes me feel good to see them sitting on the shelf because I found them so useful at one time. A bit like my face soap, really. So I keep them around just in case things change and I have a use for them again.

But at this point, the universe has hit me over the head hard enough that I not only suspect, but I KNOW that I have got to slim down and severely limit all the superfluous drains on my time, energy, and space. All the things that make me feel stuck or overburdened when it comes time to pick up and go yet again. I will probably rent a storage room for the things I know I will never be able to replace-- like the bed frame my parents slept in for 30 years, the bookshelf my dad made for me, and the boxes of books that I will actually consult occasionally, but don't need to lug from spare bedroom to spare bedroom over the next six months. I will probably sell or dump a lot of my extra toiletries-- things like that darn 32 ounces of soap that have been sitting around for the past year without ever actually being useful.

As part of the plan (while also applying for jobs daily), I'm going to consolidate everything into my room in preparation for the next big move. I'd like to know exactly what I own-- and right now there are boxes I haven't had the opportunity to open in over two years. It's a strange space to be in, knowing that if I had a reliable job and my own tiny apartment, I already own everything I'd need to be happy there... And finally admitting that just I don't have that, and may not have that for a while longer. Having to ask myself which of those beloved-but-currently-useless items are worth the cost (financial and energetic) of keeping.

I've come to realize that there are a few specific things that really contribute to my sense of contentment in a given living situation. One of those things is having and using my own kitchen gear. Another is having a workspace/desk that nobody else messes with. And being able to trust that my cat is safe, comfortable, and content whether I'm home watching out for her during the day or not. As I begin to condense both my living space and my finances, I also realize that there are two support systems that I need to KNOW I can always pay for-- my cat, and my cell phone. Abbigale cannot be replaced by other people's cats-- not the way I can use the computer in the library (which would still suck), or eat at a friend's table from time to time.

So here we are. Simplifying. Cleaning up old messes. Going back to basics. Realizing that while I prefer contact lenses, my glasses work just fine. Learning that "food stamps" are now referred to as the "SNAP" program. And they give you a credit card instead of a coupon book. Stocking up on rice and lentils because they are cheap and filling, and toilet paper because you can't buy that with the SNAP card. The times they are a-changing. I wonder how much money I wasted on that Nordstrom soap...