A little more on the intense process I just went through.
When I first opened my storage space, I had one of the first panic attacks of my life. I mean, the absurdity of it all. The schlepping of boxes from storage space to storage space, from basement to attic, from state to state. I burst into tears, said, "I cannot own any of this any more," and would gladly have called some kind of hauler to bring it all to a dump. But then a friend arrived to help me, I pulled myself together, and started triage on the books. In a sense, they are the easiest, and libraries have book sales. Then the clothes that are literally not worth shipping, so you are glad to give them to people who can use them. That's where I started.
I spent every afternoon except the Fourth of July and Sunday at the storage space, and then brought all the papers and memorabilia to a friend's house, where I sorted (yes!) from about 3:30 to 8:30 every morning. The papers are the worst, aren't they? The letters accepting me into a private kindergarten, St. Agnes School and Smith College. My official SAT scores. My scribblings of Herbert Howells research, and memorabilia from my trips to England and my efforts to enter the world of English church music. Notes from friends through the years. All, now, recycled. I mean, even in the unlikely event that someone might ask me to continue on with a study of Howells, it probably isn't close enough to my current focus on the Goddess that I would say yes. I did the best that I could to add constructively to the field that I still have an immense passion for, but at 69, it is not my future.
OMG. My mother's 1960's-era sewing box. Mind you, my mother hated sewing (because her mother loved it, perhaps). It is a gold mine of threads, darning wool, needles, buttons, iron-on patches, you name it. But I've only barely ever used it myself, or had it open to the air and in my space. It has now gone to a situation where someone will be thrilled by the bounty. Ditto, music CD's of English church music and obscure cookbooks. Some choral music scores, new age books and oracle cards. A few family things were sent to family.
Because this "letting go" wasn't just of the physical things. It was the letting go of several dreams. Of course, that I would get to England and change the world of cathedral music. That I would someday live in a big old house and have a huge studio/library space in which to paint, write, and listen to (or eventually compose?) music. That someday someone would want to write about me or use the bits and bobs of my life in their own creative way. If these haven't happened by the time I am 69, either they won't happen at all, or they will happen in a way that is literally beyond my ken, and/or in a manner that does not allow me to carry much. And to the extent that I found comfort in looking at my things and "getting" who I am, I need to start "getting it" without props!
I will probably continue with this blog, but going forward my purpose will be less about "creativity" (making beauty in various forms) and more about "embodiment". How do I embody the Goddess? Think like Her? Express what I think She might want to express if She were in my situation? I can do these things without researching in books, painting oil paintings, or putting CD's into obsolete CD players.
My most precious belongings from the past, plus a few that might help me in the future, made the "cut". Gosh, I don't even like that word! Let's say, made it through the re-birth canal. I was so proud that seven carefully-packed small boxes actually made it easily into a friend's car, and thence to the post office. What had been unmanageable became manageable, over the course of a grueling week. I couldn't have done it without friends, in a city and bus system I didn't know, or perhaps a few years from now. It was the right time to do this.
I'm still recovering from my over 24-hour bus and train journey back east, and will probably need several more days of extra sleep, and several more posts in which to "let go" of this experience and move forward!