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

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Day 2: Shoes

Last week the weather in Boston finally showed signs of spring and I decided to run the three mile loop around Lake Quannapowitt in Wakefield. Midway through, I realized that no matter how I cajoled myself, my three-year-old sneakers were no longer offering me support.  If I wanted to enjoy a jog without feeling the bones in my knees and ankles scraping against each other I was going to have to buy a new pair of shoes. As a woman, I suppose I'm supposed to enjoy shoe-shopping (or any shopping for that matter) but with my short, flat, and extra-wide feet, scouring shoe shelves for something remotely comfortable is usually a week and sometimes month long event. The day before I was to begin 24 Things I set out determined to find a new pair of sneakers.  Perhaps it was my conviction, or just sheer luck, that led me to find not only a new pair of running shoes, but also a pair of heels in the second store I ventured into. Months before, I had already begun piling shoes on top of each other on the floor of my closet. I could either add a third tier or eliminate some of the never-worn and over-worn shoes that had somehow escaped the last bag of donated clothes.

For day two, I've eliminated five pairs of shoes from the floor of my closet. I bought the pair closest to the camera most recently from a "last chance-- everything on this table just $10" sale at Berks in Harvard Square. Maybe it was the "last chance" sign, the summer sun shining over the table, or the fact that they were just $10 and happened to fit, but I bought the shoes without serious consideration. Once home, I slipped them on a second time only to realize the soles are made almost entirely of a wool/felt-like material that seems appropriate only for speed-skating across linoleum floors. I've been staring at them at the foot of my closet for almost a year and hadn't had the heart to remove them until now.

The second set claimed the title of favorite shoes for so long you can still see my foot imprint in them even though they've been empty for at least six years. The stitching in the back has come loose, the soles are as thin as paper and yet I've clung to them because they were my favorite shoes a decade ago. Am I hoping that someday there will be a world's oldest worn-out shoe contest and I'll be able to submit them proudly?

In the center stands the flower-lined heels that I retired at the beginning of the school year. The left heel hasn't faced the right way for months and the soles are on the verge of total disintegration. Maybe it's the fact that they are the most recent to be worn out that I haven't been able to let them go.

Next in line, a pair I ordered over the internet immediately after I gave up on my favorite pair of heels of all time (they didn't make this send-off as I'm still hoping I'll find a magic cobbler who will put them together again.) I searched for weeks trying to find the exact pair of heels that I'd been wearing down for three years, but the brand itself was practically obsolete, let alone a particular style of shoe. I settled for something that looked comparable, but when they came in the mail I felt like Cinderella's evil step-sister, trying to cram my too-wide foot into the stiff and narrow toes. I suffered through an entire day of work with them, my feet were numb and angry when I finally peeled them off.

Last, a pair of heels that I bought eight years ago. They were the most expensive pair of dress shoes I'd ever purchased and much like the internet-order heels, the unforgiving leather suffocated my feet. I was so determined not to let them go to waste I would wrap masking tape around my feet in an attempt to make them narrower and to shield my skin from blisters. I think the masking tape wrapping lasted a month before I banished them to the bowels of my closet forever. When I moved to Georgia six years ago they traveled with me, never leaving my carry-on bag, and two years later they traveled home, still stuffed in the bottom of the travel case.

So for day two, I say goodbye to these fives lost soles. The over-worn, the never-worn, and the sadly-worn.
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