It has been almost two months since my last new post, and after several weeks of feeling guilt and pressure (self-imposed, of course), I finally let go and allowed myself to embrace the fact that, in my life, minimalism serves me best when it’s lived. Yes, I want to talk and blog and share about it, but if it’s not my lived experience, it’s of no use to me. There isn’t room for everything, which means that I am constantly evaluating activities and objects based on the value they offer in the context of my life at this moment.
I was thinking about it this morning because I managed to get everything taken care of that I wanted to do today, then put my little one down for a nap and all of a sudden found myself surrounded by space.
All of it, all surrounding me, just begging to be enjoyed in whatever way I see fit.
After taking some moments to quietly reconnect with myself, blogging felt like a natural choice.
The past two months have been filled with houseguests, potty training, an epic meetup with friends, and hours of distress and introspection as I finally came face to face with the realization that none of what I really want out of life is going to fall into my lap. Like the other very intentional changes I’ve made, this next step will have to be intentionally made too. As an important part of making this next step, I’ve also taken on more commitments outside of my home these past couple months, which has felt new and a little frightening, but also exhilarating.
This is where the rubber meets the road for me, and why I’ve spent years studying, exploring, embracing and leaning ever further into minimalism.
Because I have been able to do exactly what I’ve wanted to do for the past months (yes, even the potty training!) and still maintain my health to the degree that I needed to. A huge accomplishment for me; one with which I am very content.
It is minimalism that has allowed me to have all this space in my life at this time, so that I could learn to be healthy while moving forward into the next phase of my life.
Just as importantly, I have space so that I can stand by the door with my toddler and wait patiently for her to figure out how to get her shoes on before we head off to an appointment.
Space to sit and watch my daughters when they don’t know that I’m watching, and see their intelligence, curiosity, and passion.
Space to sit at my little kitchen table with my cup of hot tea and feel the warm breeze from the open window on my face and arms while I think back on the many catalysts for all this change and growth in my life.
Space to continue to intentionally add activities to my stripped down schedule that bring value to my life, and by extension, value to the lives of each of my family members who have to live with me, day in and day out.
Space to finally examine and realize the deepest, untouched areas of grief and trauma that need to be brought gently into the daylight and invited to whisper softly to me about how they want to be healed., so that I can take those back to my carefully chosen support system to be seen, and heard, and witnessed while I come to terms with them.
Minimalism is the instrument through which I am curating my life. Exploring, inviting, removing, arranging, beautifying, healing – all because of the mindfulness that I’m developing as I consciously decide what to make a part of my life. Even when that means a two month break from blogging. All of it is chosen very intentionally, because it’s important to me that nothing in my life swells up too big and fills that carefully created space.