Pender Island Happy Prune
Change will be with you shortly
The Swedish Death Clean espouses pruning one’s possessions down to a single plate, and a knife and fork. Its ally, The Norwegian Life Clean is a much more positively slanted practice, with the idea being that one keeps only what’s meaningful and useful. If these two snuck off into a back bedroom and made out like bunnies, their offspring might resemble the game I have recently adopted. I’m calling it the Pender Island Happy Prune. The rules are: what physical objects can I get rid of this week?
No matter what else is going on, there must be at least two fewer things at my place. That’s sparkly. If I can get rid of more objects in a week than two, then I score bonus points. This could possibly result in the purchase of a fine artisan cheese from the natural food store on the island. That’s consumable and plays well with friends.
I could eat a jar of pickled beets from my cupboard that are only a year past their best-before date. And not replace them.
Why not offer a pair of blue flannel pillowcases to a friend who’s moving?
How about quietly subtracting a three-pound bag of kaolin clay from my old Pender Botanicals cupboard? Looking into my crystal ball, I’d say I will never again make a Miracle Cleansing Grains Scrub. I adored my time as a maker of lotions and potions but I can’t write books, look after a house and garden and keep on as a skin alchemist.
The compost heap would love kaolin clay.
I am not stripping entire cupboards. That’s way too serious and time-consuming. No, I am merely sneaking away random objects that snag my attention.
Of course, I always keep a bag in my closet that I fill with objects for Nu to You as they drift, one by one, into my hands. Our thrift store on Pender Island only accepts donations a couple of mornings a week and then a maximum of two small bags. So a person needs to be ready to grab and go when the fit hits.
How about a brand-new-with-tags acupressure mat that a family member insisted would make me feel better, but emphatically did not? That could be donated to the Nu to You for their auction later this year. It’s a bit special to be thrift.
My sister confessed, laughing, that she has managed to donate a number of artworks she no longer wanted to charity auctions in her area. Brilliant! One wants to be respectful.
I’m currently watching dear friends agonize as they pack and downsize from a big house filled with books and art. Their plan is to move into a small condo with as much art and books as can be accommodated. What will they take? What can they give to family and then friends? What goes to the thrift store? My friend said, “How many pairs of candlesticks do we need, no matter how beautiful?”
As singer Sam Cooke reminds us, “Change gonna come.” Hey, change is already upon us; it’s the big constant in life we don’t like to acknowledge.
This game I’ve adopted says, if I had to move next year (which I am not planning) could I get my possessions to the point where I’d bring everything? My goal is to use up or give away a good chunk of the inessentials.
That way I could keep items that I love, every piece of clothing in my cupboard would fit, and the books that remain are ones I will reread with pleasure.
It's a peculiar hybrid with floppy ears, this Pender Island Happy Prune but so far, we’re playing well together.
The observant reader will have noticed that I skipped a week in magicmonday postings. A friend came to stay in my cottage for a writing retreat. We both achieved some of what we wanted, and she cooked terrific meals. As much as we could, we stayed away from the state of the world and just talked writing.
What change is coming upon you? And what strategies are you using? I’d love to hear.
Zoe, best opening paragraph ever! And you’ve inspired me to yet again tackle some closets. Cheers!