*** Time for this post? Reading…3 minutes. Viewing…8 minutes. Figuring it out…I don’t know. What do you think?
Decluttering weighs heavy on many minds—and a lot of us get stuck there. In spite of the good advice from organizing experts like Marie Kondo and Margareta Magnusson.
There’s a lot of decision-making involved in clutter clearing—first in determining what stays and what goes; then in working out how and where to store what remains. It can be overwhelming. It often is.
*** Time for this post? Reading…7 minutes. Viewing…10 minutes. Thinking about letting go…who knows?
Living as we do in a culture of excess, the concept of clutter clearing is familiar to most North Americans. The first time I really thought about it was when I read Karen Kingston‘s little book Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui in 1999. Feng Shui, a traditional Chinese concept, deals with energy. According to the description on amazon,
Kingston reminds us that clutter is stuck energy that keeps you stuck in undesirable life patterns. Therefore, you can “sort out your life by sorting out your junk.” Kingston covers the reasons we keep things as well as the amazing stories of people who have cleared their clutter away.
In the years since it was published, there have been many more books about clutter clearing.
***Time for this post? Reading…8 minutes. Viewing…2 minutes. Sifting and sorting…as much as you want to.
Last week I wrote about knowing when enough is enough. That post was about medical treatments at the end of life. However, the concept of “enough” also applies to our possessions, and that’s what I’m addressing today.
In either case, determining what is enough—and what is excess—challenges us to think about our values, what’s important to us, what we cherish.
***Time for this post? Reading… 8 minutes. Viewing…12 minutes. Exploring what is deeply satisfying to you…as long as it takes.
It’s not easy to know when to call it quits, to speak up and change course when we’ve had enough. This bold action requires us to think deeply about what’s important, and to take a stand for it…even when those around us have a different opinion about what we should do.
We are not enculturated to live—or die—on our own terms.
… “enough” is not a number—it’s what is deeply satisfying.
The above quote is from Conscious Spending, Conscious Life, my book about using our resources intentionally. It helps us all navigate the consumer culture without being consumed by it.
As I learn more about the way we die in the West, I keep seeing parallels between consumption of consumer goods and our engagement with healthcare services. In both cases, we can end up being used by the system rather than served by it. Continue reading
*** Time for this post? Reading …1 minute. Viewing …19 minutes.
Enculturation is the process by which individuals learn their group’s culture—through experience, observation, and instruction. It is how traditions evolve.
We all become enculturated, that is, steeped in the way things are done in the society in which we live. It’s what we know, what we get used to, what we think is normal.
*** Time for this post? Reading… 5 minutes. Viewing…you’ll be surprised how quickly the time passes.
When I wrote my first blog about dying, reader Barb Morin posted this comment…
A master of this subject [thinking about dying] —a self-described dealer in the “death trade” for over 20 years is Canada’s own Stephen Jenkinson. He has written a number of books – the last one called Come of Age and an earlier one entitled Die Wise.
He has a website called orphanwisdom.com and he is currently on tour through North America doing a presentation called “Nights of Grief and Mystery” with a musician named Greg Hoskins.
We recently attended this in Calgary—me and 5 family and friends who were not really looking forward to an uninterrupted 2.5 hours where entry was not allowed after the doors closed, with no intermission . About all I can say is that no one moved for the fastest 2.5 hours in my life and none was “unmoved’” by the content. My husband, who has a reputation for being able to sleep through ANYTHING shortly after it begins and wakes up as the clapping starts, was awake for the entire thing! He even said, “that was really good”!
I’d certainly encourage you to look at him as a resource. He has an NFB film about him and his work called Griefwalker which you can find on YouTube. He also teaches on occasion at Hollyhock Retreat Center on Cortes Island and teaches at his farm in Ontario.
As it happened, Stephen Jenkinson had not yet crossed my path—and I could hardly ignore such a compelling recommendation. Having listened to him on video, today I’m sharing an excellent interview that gives you a sense of what he’s about.
If you don’t see the video, watch it here.
This is such a rich conversation, it’s impossible to summarize. Here are some things that leapt out at me…
Stephen Jenkinson does not give us the same-old same-old. What caught your attention? Did you find things to think about?
*** Time for this post? Reading…3 minutes. Listening…10 minutes. Considering…at your leisure.
We get to indulge in death phobia because commercial interests are right there, ready to step in and do the difficult things for us. In this way, we avoid a lot of discomfort.
But we pay a price for our comfort…and it’s not just in money. We become death illiterate, with no language for what death asks of us and no emotional capacity to recognize that death is asking something of us.
*** Time for this post? Reading… 9 minutes. Viewing… 4 minutes. Doing something to unhook yourself…up to you.
We live in a time when dying has been sanitized and commercialized—like most of our life experiences. In our consumer culture, commercial interests have taken over all the difficult things we used to do ourselves when someone died. In return, we get to detach from the experience and feel less discomfort.
That wasn’t always the case. Here’s a recollection shared by Nora, a reader who is now 90 years old.
My first direct experience [with death] was probably around the age of 5 or 6. In those days people still often dealt with the death of a family member at home, and my mother was often called on to help with washing of the body. In this particular instance a baby had died and I accompanied her to the farm where the family lived. They were friends. I watched as the baby was washed and placed in a small wooden box, then taken out and buried on the property. I didn’t see the burial, but can’t recall why. I only remember that I wasn’t scared and thought it was completely natural.
That had changed by the time the Baby Boomers were growing up in the 1950s and 60s. By then, the funeral industry was in full swing. Death was outsourced and we didn’t learn, as Nora did, that it is completely natural and not scary. In the absence of such experience, we’ve become fearful of the unknown and susceptible to the death phobia that pervades the culture around us.
*** Time for this post? Reading…a minute. Viewing…15 minutes.
Last week I wrote about how we use euphemisms to replace the word “death” because we consider it a harsh and ugly reality.
What if we did as philosopher-comic Emily Levine did. When faced with a diagnosis of stage IV lung cancer, she looked for ways to make sense of life, living, dying, and death. Continue reading
*** Time for this post? Reading…10 minutes. Viewing…17 minutes. Considering…as you wish.
Death. Dying. Have you noticed that most people dance around the subject of death when they’re in a situation that puts it in their face—whether it’s their dying or someone else’s.
Case in point—the funeral director I met with a few months ago. I was making my Plan B arrangements in case my body donation doesn’t go through. (This could happen if its condition is unsuitable at the time I die.)
Obviously, I wasn’t prepaying for a funeral since I don’t know whether or not I’ll need their services. But he was willing to meet with me, on that understanding, to fill out the paperwork. There are some tricky questions on the forms that must be submitted when registering a death, and I wanted to make sure the correct answers are on file.
Within minutes, it was obvious that the funeral director was selecting his words carefully in an effort to avoid causing me discomfort. Fair enough, in that we had just met and he was trying to assess where I was coming from.
I helped him out by saying something very direct about my death that let him know he could speak freely. The conversation was much more satisfying after that.
