I like moving. I like planning and planting a new garden. I like living in houses and places that are different from each other (brand new suburban, rustic post and beam on 10 acres, Victorian in a coastal small town, mid-century modern … what will be next?). I like reinventing myself, unhinging my identity a bit, not knowing anyone or anywhere, gradually making discoveries. Of course, some of this can be done by staying in one place for a lifetime, but some of it can’t.
Most of all — and what moving facilitates so well — I like getting rid of stuff. I like selling or giving away books, I like weeding out clothes, shoes, and other apparel and accessories. I like tossing knick-knacks, puzzles, games and other things I never really liked anyway but kept because they were (usually) gifts. I love throwing out letters, postcards, and other ephemera. I like the freeing feeling in my body when I let go of what I’ve been hanging on to.
It’s been 2-1/2 years since we last moved and I feel ready to do it again. Not move, necessarily, but purge the house of the unnecessary and unbeautiful.
As designer and Arts & Crafts Movement forerunner William Morris put it, succinctly: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” I still have a long way to go to reach this ideal.