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

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Day 34: Children's Beach Chair

In September I began a  yoga teacher training program at a local studio. The first night we were warned that some days we'd be sitting for hours and were welcome to bring a chair or cushion. The following day just about everyone in the group had a stylish beach chair while I propped myself up on a blue yoga block. I scanned my memory for something I could bring the next day that might be lying low around my house. I had a lawn chair, but that would seem too tall and out of place. I could bring my meditation cushion, but that wouldn't provide me with back support. I decided to take a trip to the Christmas Tree Shop certain they would have something.

There was an entire display of beach chairs still left over from summer on sale for $8. They came in a neat drawstring bag that resembled a yoga mat bag. I unfastened one to set up beside the display and discovered the chairs were meant for children. Still, I sat in it, drawing sideways looks from other shoppers. The arms went out far enough to accommodate my hips that had widened at some point in my early twenties in preparation for childbirth. I decided the chair was perfect and purchased it.

The next day I squeezed myself in for several hours. It didn't take long for the metal bars beneath the fabric to begin cutting into my thighs. Still I sat, determined to make the chair work. "At least it has a hole for my water bottle," I thought until I realized the base of my bottle was too big for the mesh opening. With my father's stubbornness, I sat in it the remainder of the day. Training was one weekend a month so it stayed in my trunk in the drawstring bag beside my yoga mat for four weeks. The following weekend I didn't bother to take it out. I brought my meditation cushion instead, which was hours more accommodating than the too-small chair and the studio wall provided all the back support I needed.

Although I had no intentions of ever using the chair again, it remained in my trunk until just recently. I open my trunk daily to reach for my yoga mat and couldn't help but be reminded of this illogical purchase each time. Thankfully 24(+) things allowed me to finally take it out. I brought it to my three-year old niece and propped it up on the giant deck that my brother and I built alone in nine days one summer when we were both unemployed. We dug holes for the foundation, poured cement, carted thousands of pounds of wood, and pounded in nails the hottest week of the year when the temperatures reached close to 100 and shade didn't reach the workspace until late afternoon. It was one of the single most rewarding experiences of my life and makes barbeques on his deck all the more enjoyable. My niece made several jumbled expressions of surprise and wonder at the new chair. After admiring it from a safe distance and with some encouragement from my brother and I she sat down, her feet reaching the floor perfectly. "Thank you Auntie," she said and jumped up to wrap her arms around me.

Years ago, my sister-in-law's grandfather built a cottage on a private beach somewhere near Cape Cod. The family shares the cottage, each claiming their own week of the summer to sit and relax and watch the waves. I know this chair will go with them to the beach this year and my niece will sit in it, swinging her feet back and fourth in the sand by the ocean.
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