Back in October, I read an article by Ginia Bellafante in the New York Times titled "
The Imperfectionist." (Sorry that I cannot provide a link. Online membership is required.) Remembrances of the article have returned numerous times through these past few months, and this weekend, I was happy to find the copy that I printed out back in autumn. (Exhibit A, your honor: My tendency to print out too many articles that I want to keep or - worse yet - file for later reading. This is one of the few times I've actually gone back to look for one and then actually found it.)
The article is about
Dan Ho, author of a fairly new book, "
Rescue from Domestic Perfection" and host of a Discovery Health program, "
The Dan Ho Show." I am in no way endorsing either of these - as I have not read the book and I have not seen the show. But, the article about his life - at the very least - intrigued me. Some excerpts:
*Dan Ho likes to get rid of things. For the past eight years he has committed himself to a project of aggressive divestment, letting go of houses, sofas, refectory tables, electric mixers, Georg Jenson silverware, and a collection of ceramics. Earlier this year... Mr. Ho, 40, decided to reduce the sum of his possessions and eventually winnowed them down to about 55. Motivated neither by debt nor by environmentalism but simply by a compulsion to unburden himself, he moved from a 1,200 square foot house in Portland, ME to a rented apartment one-quarter the size in Greenwich Village, where he now lives with two roommates... 47 items of clothing and a backpack, suitcase, television, computer, bath towel, single set of sheets, toothbrush, and bottle of witch hazel.
*"When people say they want red walls, do they really want red walls?"..."Do they really want red walls, or do they want impact? Chances are, what they really want is recognition and what they're really, really looking for is recognition from themselves."
*"Perfection is a cheap caricature of style... Candles don't set a mood, people do... Myths [are] enslaving..." One of them, he thinks, is the idea that you should always be ready for drop-in guests. "No, you shouldn't," he counters, "unless you're running a bed-and-breakfast."
*At the core of his philosophy is the belief that our relentless attention to renovation and reorganizing, to building and rebuilding, distracts us from the more demanding work of becoming better partners, caretakers and friends.
*"What I hate is our whole culture of trade-ups-manship... No one ever seems to be happy in the house they actually buy. You visit someone's new place and you say, 'wow, this is great,' and inevitably they'll say, 'well, it's O.K. for now.' and that drives me absolutely crazy."
*[Demonstrating the thought processes of trade-ups-manship] "You build a house, then you put in a pool... Then you need peony garden. Then you watch 'Martha Stewart' and you realize a peony garden needs a fence. Then you think, 'I should have a rose garden, too, and if I'm going to have a rose garden, I have to have 30 varieties.' "
*"If you ever have enough sheets, towels and blankets to warrant an entire closet I can guarantee that you've missed some really good opportunities to do something else."
*What he disavows is inauthentic simplicity. From his perspective, no one should go out and buy drawer dividers to better organize their socks; they should have fewer socks and throw them in a drawer with enough room to distinguish the black ones from the navy ones.
First of all, regarding the comments about drop-in guests and the sheet/ towel/ blanket closet... it's clear he's no Primitive Baptist! And, while I agree with his thoughts on people setting the mood, I'm going to have to keep thinking about the candles for a little while longer.
I don't agree with everything Dan Ho believes nor will do everything he has done. I don't plan on selling my house anytime soon. And, I am not winnowing down my belongings down to the double digits in the near future. (Even if I tried, it would take a while.) However, this has made me think about how much "stuff" I have. Worse yet, how much time I spend moving my "stuff" from place to place. Even worse, especially before church meetings and family visits - when I should be praying and preparing in much more important, significant ways. It's like making the deliberate choice to place a ball and chain on my body - and maybe more significantly, on my mind - that makes all of me move at a more labored pace. Weighed down. Obstacles at every turn.
Now, some of you have been at my house and don't understand what I could be talking about. Clutter? Where? Other friends know better because they've ventured into my basement or looked in
CERTAIN closets or shown up unexpectedly at one of
THOSE times. But, just like hurtful remembrances and sinful thoughts tucked away in a nice dark corner, no matter how much they're hidden from plain view, they still find a way to affect me day by day, moment by moment. So, as stated a few days ago, I now declare this an official time of agressively getting rid of some stuff: the stuff I'm holding onto for some occasion just in case I might need it someday (that one really has a hold on me), the stuff I'm holding onto for some big project I know I'm never going to complete and I don't even want to do anymore (it will not be a sign of failure!), the stuff I'm holding onto that helps me think I need other stuff to build on it (you know, the building-block-you-need-five-more-things-to-go-with-me stuff)... So much stuff, so many categories, so many (bad) reasons for keeping it all of this time.
(Related: I took a poll with the ladies in the office today and asked how many of them were holding on to a stash of lipsticks or lip liners or eyeshadows that were probably given out as free samples from Clinique or Estee Lauder - in colors they were sure were not right for them and had no intention of wearing - which has taken up space in their bathrooms for more than 7 years for no good reason. You can guess the results. We had one agressive thrower-awayer, and the rest relunctantly responded with yes. Most of the latter group admitted they really wish they had that space for something much more important but just hadn't made the time or it was too difficult to throw it or give it away.)
I especially agree with what Ho states about reflecting on how I spend my time, clarifying priorities, seeking simplicity instead of feeding my sinful nature of discontentment - in what I own, in what I'm working toward, in the home improvement projects, in what I am expecting to come my way in life. Discontentment in what I hold in my hand and in my mind and in my heart. Especially once in the vicious cycle, I find myself so caught up in what might come along instead of focusing on the wonderful of the here and now. I don't believe Ho is talking about becoming a slacker, someone who never desires advancement or excellence or a plan toward improvement. I just think he's talking about taking time to redefine excellence and reprogram and focus.
I pray for freedom from lugging tubs and boxes from place to place. I pray for open spaces to work on the activities I want to fill my life. I pray I never have to make another trip to the store for something I know I have but just can't find. Most of all, I pray for contentment in what I have so I have more time in working on who I am and how I can better serve others.
SORT! ORGANIZE! CLEAN! SIMPLIFY! GIVE! PURGE! DON'T GIVE UP!
I love old houses. And, I love to drive on the backroads to see what I will find. The worn wood, the wind-swept paint, the crumbling brick, the broken windows, the sagging structures... all of it makes me wonder, "Who built this? What happened there? Who lived there through the years? Were there children playing in the yard? Who were the last to live in it?" So many stories the creaking floorboards and crackling walls could tell if only they could talk. Yes, if only they could talk.
Right off the main path sat this house, and Lydia, Tasha, and I noticed it on the way to the Sacred Harp singing last month. So, we couldn't wait to stop and take a closer look on our way back home. And, I couldn't help myself from taking a peek inside.
