I was the child picking up stones and twigs and broken shells. This was my favorite, all holes and polished by time. I didn’t find it myself, but bought it for one Guilder (yes before the Euro) from some kid in my neighbourhood. Lacking pocket money, I sold a small toy to pay for it. That’s how much I loved it.
I don’t remember which toy I sold or who to. But I still have the shell. And I still find it beautiful.
I am the woman picking up the tattered, the chipped, the unwanted (mostly ceramics). I love the smell of old books, the patina on worn wood. Broken shells and fossils, which I keep in these Dutch cookie tins I can never resist at the thrift store.
In the past year I spent an awful lot of time decluttering. Not because I read a book (Kondo, I haven’t) or even because everyone else was doing it. But because I want to move to a smaller home (with a garden).
It became a little obsessive. My husband will laugh at the ‘little’, I’m being kind to myself. Recently, I started running out of things to get rid of and a little panic kicked in (again, ‘little’) because we still haven’t sold the house and it was starting to look a little (yes) empty and I ran out of ‘things that had to be done before moving’.
Of course the decluttering (something I had control over) was just a replacement for the actual moving (over which I have no control). No need for a psychologist, here.
I’ve slowly started thrifting and picking up things again. Tattered, chipped, unwanted, precious things. Holding them in my hands, this time weighing taking vs leaving them for someone else to discover very carefully, because one day we will move house and I don’t want to have to start decluttering again.
This time I hear a little voice saying: ‘…but does it spark my joy?’ Turns out, not many things do. But when it happens, magic!
What are your thoughts on decluttering? And what are your precious things? Tell me.
P.S.: just wanted to add this post by Mel from Styledcanvas: ‘A home prop box for the stylist within‘.
