...and in with the new.
I've been purging my closets, digging deep, being ruthless, and packing up clothes I haven't worn for a while. I've lost a lot of weight, and my artist lifestyle just doesn't have a need for so many cool clothes. I work at home! I don't go out much, AND I just turned 57. That's getting damn close to 60 (yikes) and many of my clothes just seemed to..., well young and flamboyant for me these days. I'm feeling more subtle and quiet now for some reason, and decided to dive into the painful task of purging the old.
And it is painful. I'm a total clothes addict, and very attached to my clothes.
But I did it.
A woman who owns a high-end consignment store in downtown Seattle came by my house just now with her fiancee. I served them some wine, the fiancee brought me some fabulous Fran's sea salt caramels. So we indulged while we went through the boxes. I felt a pang with each piece, but
I was brave!
She took every piece that didn't have a tear or spot that couldn't be cleaned.
Now I will tackle my other stuff. I have two full sets of fine china. One from each grandmother. And a lot more things filling the cupboards in my kitchen. Some pieces of furniture I never use that just fill up space.
Most of it from grandparents who've passed from this world.
I keep it because of them.
But you know? I can remember them without needing their stuff. And my memories ore more beautiful than their treasures.
So the purge will continue.
I need space to re-invent the next phase of my life.
Once the stuff is gone, I look forward to the more internal transformations.
I don't know what they will be, but I feel the transformation stalking me.