Baggage versus Possessions

Baggage - a loaded word, for sure. It sounds heavy, something to be labored with or requiring effort to maintain.

Possessions - a word making finite what we own. Protective, defensive, hopefully appreciative and proud feelings present themselves when thinking about our possessions.

Now, consider our true possessions. What, of the entire mass, comes to mind as truly ours? Where does the rest truly belong?

During my 15 years as a professional housekeeper, I cared for 50 families by tending their possessions. My clientele was as varied as I could arrange, from living in extreme luxury to extreme frugality. All along this scale, there were examples of simple pleasures and utter chaos. My nonjudgmental nature allowed me to welcome all comers on equal footing. The relationship between housekeeper and client is interesting: I was instrumental in maintaining their health, safety and comfort but the weight of the housekeeper's suggestions on how to prevent mold and the warning of dangerous clutter on the stairs was ineffective against their habits. Initially I was alarmed but soon learned it was my business to maintain their possessions and not my business to teach. I learned to merely observe the effects their excessive possessions had on them and me. This objectivity was my first step toward understanding physical baggage and its connection to emotional baggage.

Early in my housekeeping career, I worked for a family who wanted for nothing. Their home was luxurious and roomy. Most of what they possessed was kept in cavernous closets in the climate controlled basement. They decided to spend a year abroad and moved all their possessions into storage: autos, furniture, baby grand piano, cool light fixtures, everything. While they were away, they had their house burned to the ground and a new house built on the same spot. I do not recommend burning your house down, even when empty, but a near magical thing happened when they returned. After a year away from their possessions, they rediscovered what they missed and noticed what of their stuff really didn't matter after all. 

I tried my version of this physical distancing, having a huge amount of stuff at the time. I packed up half of my kitchen and stored it in the attic for six months. Some things I really missed, most I didn't. My true possessions stood right out. What I didn't miss I split between the men's halfway house and the women's shelter. Instantly, my baggage became true possessions to those who needed them. The reward of loosening the baggage was two fold - physically, working in the kitchen was easier and emotionally, the joy of observing a problem and taking care of it was powerful. My kitchen was now a safer place, easier to maintain. I made it so by being objective and getting some distance from my possessions.

Emotional objectivity was extremely helpful as I continued to merely observe my habits and possessions. My next success was decluttering my workspace. I wasn't very productive at my desk. It was surrounded by tools and materials for seven different artistic pursuits: macrame, wood carving, mask making, painting, sewing, rubber stamping and beading. When I had spare time there wasn't adequate space, so I spent it digging through the stuff, moving it out of the way, which resulted in frustration and sadness at the wasted time and for projects I'd never get to. Finally, I had enough torment and gave away everything except sewing, beading and rubber stamping, which all fit nicely in three dresser drawers. No more emotional baggage. The sadness and frustration was replaced with the joy of sending those art supplies to a high school drama department, a daycare and to the guys at the halfway house who were delighted to have them. In retrospect, I don't miss those supplies a bit and it seems strange that I didn't recognize them for what they were. By loosening the baggage, I was setting the stage for my next act. I now teach housekeeping and spend many productive hours at my desk. In my spare time, materials are ready and I have room to be creative. Empty space is now a valued possession. 

I continued to merely observe and to learn from my clients who were avid collectors. I observed a snow globe collection so vast that the boxes upon boxes of snow globes completely filled two bedrooms and along the hallway wall from floor to ceiling. We had to walk sideways in the hallway. None were on display as I recall. Another client collected figurines. They were all on display, everywhere, and they all had sweet little faces looking up. This collection was well tended: they were dusted periodically and most were displayed in glass cases. This client was extremely good at organizing, which enabled her to properly display her entire collection. Inspired to consider my own collections, I asked myself, do my collections nurture me or do they complicate my life? The answer to my question was, I had two collections that stressed me out.

Every morning was a chore to get dressed because I had over 200 short sleeved t-shirts and plenty more with long sleeves and no sleeves. The torture of overflowing clothing had to become extreme before objectivity was possible. I wanted them all. In this case, I had to become my own Mom in my head and make rules for myself. I could keep seven black t-shirts and one of every other color. That's it. I pulled out all 200 + of them and I shopped from my own stuff. I chose the best fitting, best looking ones and... most of the rest were donated. I did reward myself for my genuinely focused effort by cutting the fronts out of nine of the black ones for my quilting pile. I kept one of each of the other colors; one light pink, one medium pink and one dark pink, etc. It wasn't easy but with rewards, like a good Mom would bestow, I selected 20 t-shirts total and took the rest to Goodwill. All of my clothes, all seasons and shoes now fit in one regular sized closet and two dressers. I feel the reward everyday. Achieving emotional distance by obeying my mental Mom's rules, coupled with the physical distancing of shopping for my true possessions from the entire mass of my clothes, then paying for them by letting the baggage go was very empowering.

My collection of family artwork was a complicated problem and required a different solution. This collection was made for us by us, so I need to keep it all. The cure was to rotate the exhibit like museums do. In autumn, I display the water color of pumpkins and the straw man sculpture and pack away the summery oil painting of gladiolas. In winter, photos of the snow couple, winter rainbows and the creche replace the straw man and pumpkin. Twice a year I handle all of these precious pieces. My relationship with these possessions is caring and personal where before they were competing for space and a chore to dust. If you choose to possess a thing, you must be responsible for it's care. Keeping that in mind will help you identify baggage before you possess it.  

Human beings are wonderfully made. We are self-aware and self-determining but these abilities have been manipulated by advertising for many generations. Reclaim your self-awareness by merely observing how society's materialism has come into your life. Assert your self-determination by being objective of your purchasing habits. Consider each dollar you spend as a dollar vote cast in favor of the manufacturer, advertiser and retailer's business practices. This may help you determine the true value of what you choose to own. Do your possessions nurture you or add more stress? Distance yourself from your possessions, then ask, what of our stuff do we have a safe, healthy and comfortable relationship with and where will the baggage find it's true value?