Finding Freedom From Fixtures

After recently taking a workshop with Marylee Fairbanks (http://maryleefairbanks.com/) I have decided to begin my own "24 Things" challenge (http://maryleefairbanks.com/24-things/). The rules are simple: each day for 24 days you let go of something that has been cluttering up your house, something that no longer serves you, objects that will be better suited at a yard sale, donation box, or in a trash barrel. During the 24 day release, one should only purchase necessities-- food, medical care, etc. All other material desires should be added to an ongoing list. If you are able to remember the items on your list at the end of the 24 days, then you are free to purchase them, otherwise they are likely to have been unimportant. According to Marylee, "The clutter in our house reflects the clutter in our hearts." Are we clinging to mementos of past relationships? Unwanted gifts that we were too polite to turn away? Clothes that haven't fit for years? Objects that no longer reflect who we are currently in this ever-changing body and mind of ours? Are the things we surround ourselves with keeping us rooted in the past, preventing us from blossoming into the future? In order to invite abundance into our lives, we must eliminate the unnecessary clutter that surrounds us.

Although Marylee recommends four cycles, corresponding to the four seasons, of 24 Things each year, the timing of her most recent workshop and the significance of this period in my own life could not have been better. I will be beginning my solitary 24 Things today, April 29th exactly one year after my (ex) husband told me he was moving out. In exactly 24 days I will turn 28 years old. I cannot think of a better way to mark the end of a year of transformation and to usher in another year of abundance, love, and gratitude for this life that constantly challenges and inspires me.

"One good thing to remember when clearing out is this: If you have an object that makes the past feel more important than the future then you should let it go. The past is gone. Your present is all that need be nourished." ~Marylee Fairbanks

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Day 16: Sword

My ex-husband and I met in a high school sculpture class. He dressed like a Vietnam Veteran trapped in the year 1991 when grunge music was most popular. He'd wear black jungle boots, army fatigue pants, a band t-shirt (think Pearl Jam, Nirvana, the Smashing Pumpkins), and ripped flannels. He grew is hair out long and was easily mistaken for a junkie in a city where drug use was all too common.

The first day of sculpture class I took to a table in the back of the room, afraid that someone would find out I had never taken an art class before and call my bluff. I signed up to make ceramic coffee mugs only to find that the kiln to heat the clay had broken the year before. Since we didn't have the funds to replace it, we created art from trash and the least expensive materials available. We crafted sculptures out of cardboard, paper, wire, cut up soda cans, plaster (in strips and blocks), clay, and paper mache.

My ex-husband would destroy his sculptures immediately after finishing them. He'd drop them on our teacher's desk for a grade and as soon as she was finished he would send them flying across the room to be stomped under his feet and chucked into a trash barrel. Most projects were lucky to make it to the "finished" stage. Even then he was prone to fits of anger if things didn't turn out exactly as he'd planned. Once, he was carving something out of a large block of plaster when he made a mistake, palmed the block in his over-sized hand, raised it above his head and slammed it on the table where we sat. Everyone else at the table ducked or jumped back, but I stood, unflinching, calm. Our teacher, who generally tolerated his behavior, sent him into the hallway and led several students over to the sink to wash plaster particles out of their eyes.

Only two projects survived his fits of anger and accomplishment. He rebuilt a soda can by puzzling together smaller pieces of many different cans and gave it to me as a gift. I kept it in my locker for the rest of senior year and still have it in my home today (soon to be on the list of 24 things, however.) The only other surviving project was the sword pictured above-- a hockey stick covered in plaster strips. His closest friend kept it for him until we moved back from Georgia to Massachusetts. It is now covered in a thick layer of nicotine, dust, and dirt that have stained the white plaster a sickly shade of orange.

It's time to tuck this ridiculous ten-year-old relic into the trash.
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