Louise Smith

Louise was a driver, of the racing kind.  NASCAR, where she was the first or second woman to join that fast and, in my opinion, freaking-crazy bunch of crazy freaks. 

I cannot watch car racing.  Animal racing is heinous and I would avoid that on principle alone, but soft and juicy humans tearing around in circles or straight out are nightmares waiting to happen.  Same thing goes for contact sports or mountain climbing, climbing anything except a two step ladder.  Anything that carries the likelihood of any injuries greater than a skinned knee helps my stomach to clutch around my entire insides, heart, bowel and everything in between; then, my head aches in sympathy.

Oh, and amusement park rides that take you more than a few feet off of the ground and at greater speeds than, oh, like leisurely strolling.

Until I left that other life, I never connected the context of how I was living to be a factor in any of that, much less the reason that speed and even mildly violent stuff bothered me to the point of internal pain and discomfort and unease.  But, even though there are countless people who have decent lives and are still uncomfortable with those activities, that is the core cause for me.  So be it.

So, anyway, it came as a surprise that a quote by a woman who was a race car driver, and later owner of cars driven by other insane people, hit me today in a place in my anatomy that needed to be hit exactly like that, and exactly with that kind of power. 

I was at my soon-to-be former flat yesterday, cleaning and packing stuff, but mostly to throw stuff away.  There is a small agency in town, the old town, that said they would take any clothes or furnishings that I did not want.  There is a woman who works in the law office on the other side of the driveway that has already given a new home to a table that belonged to my grandmother, as well as a huge coffee machine that is really too huge for one person to use.

She knows that anything left on the porch is free to take, and I did leave some things she can use out there yesterday afternoon.  Being there yesterday was so difficult.  I need to just toss out all kinds of stuff and I was struggling whilst deciding what to take and what to leave.  Some things are easy to let go, others, like art supplies, is a bitch.  In the worst meaning of the common use of that word. 

I did my best, and just let the rest sit until next week, hoping that I would find the guts to do what needs to be done. 

Then, before I left, I called the moving guys place, to set up a date to move the last of that stuff.  I stopped at their office on my way out of the city and the estimate nearly knocked me off of my chair.  We negotiated it down, but not all that much because the trip from old place to new place is so long.

When I got home (stopping off at my favorite natural foods market in the city between there and here) I started thinking about why I still need to have all of those things.  They are great and useful things, but I have not touched most of it in the two and a half years since leaving that other life.  Not once have I gone into that craft room to even sort and put the supplies on shelves.  All I ever did was to dig through the boxes and totes to find items I needed to use in the art classes and to make gifts.

And, I began to think about how important it could be if I have not needed in it all that time.

And, I began to wonder if any of it was worth the cost of moving it to here, and later added that if I had not found a use for any of it, what was the point of going through the boxes and totes to decide what to keep hauling around me.  For the rest of my life?  Even if I never move from here?

And, even if there is the potential to use some of it, might it be less expensive to buy new items than haul them up here?

The answer is yes, and not just for the art supplies.  I am not bringing most of the furniture that is still there.  Sleeper sofa, hutch, books, bookcases and art supplies.  L-shaped desk.  Pressure cooker, microwave.  All will be staying there, to be fetched by someone who wants any of it and to be put out for the trash collectors.

I cannot believe that I was able to make that decision.  But, I have.  Man.

I will be moving a small curio cabinet and some of my spiritual stuff, herbs, oils and some books and crystals and stuff.  Two indoor drying racks, and the over-the-door ones.

One box of books.  One box of fabric, and the sewing machine.  Five totes of art supplies, and my french easel.  A few things left in the kitchen, maybe the table and chairs...maybe not, if I can find something really cheap here.

Should not take even an hour to load the truck, and, frankly, if I could move anything more than the couple of boxes I have brought here on my own, I would do that for the rest, but the stairway to this upper flat are old and steep, the risers high and the steps shallow, not even deep enough to fit my foot in shoes.

I was feeling so stressed about all of this that when I stopped at the natural food store, I bought a fresh bottle of Rescue Remedy.  I have yet to take any, but this decision is helping me to feel really great about this.

Louise's words pretty much say it all.

You can't reach for anything new 

if your hands are still full of yesterday's junk.