I've moved a lot. More than most people. There was a period in my life (say, a couple decades long) when I averaged a move or two a year. Packing and unpacking, purging and rebuilding, it's all kind of second nature to me now. I don't get stressed about it; home is a pretty fluid concept (more on that in a later post), and it's actually kind of soothing and nostalgic to get the opportunity to take stock of the "stuff" you've built up over this period in your life. And in the past 4+ years since business school (4 moves, if you're counting), I've built 1800 square feet (plus a garage)'s worth of stuff: a beautiful collection of art, a harmonious assortment of furniture that supports my seat and reflects my aesthetic vision, and (truthfully) a sickening amount of clothing. If I had to pick one aspect of my life that most closely resembles addiction, online clothing shopping wins by a mile.

A move, especially one that involves a major life shift, always positions us uniquely to evaluate (from a material, gross perspective, anyway) what we want to carry with us, and what we're ready to let go of. We get to choose, quite literally, our baggage. And that's profound and impactful, if you do it consciously. And that leaves me with a fundamental dilemma of stuff: how much stuff do I need? How much stuff do I want? What do I do with all of my stuff? Whose stuff is it, anyway?

But this move feels different. Charged, somehow. There's an expectation, I think, that someone deciding to move to an ashram (or a monastery, or a nomadic lifestyle) is shedding all of their stuff in the process. Physical stuff, mental stuff, emotional stuff. Fresh start. No baggage. But of course, that's impossible; we're not solely defined by the things we own, borrow, or carry with us. In a recent yoga training I did, the (Tibetan Buddhist, if it matters) lecturers briefly discussed nonattachment in the context of this question of stuff. I was somewhat surprised, pleasantly so, when their conclusion wasn't that all stuff was bad, but that each person finds the right amount of stuff for them. If you get rid of all of your stuff and then you feel awful about it, that's too much purging; you're going against your internal, natural order. So in making decisions about my stuff in preparation for this move to the Himalayan Institute, I'm feeling a lot of pressure to hear and reflect my inner voice. To be true to mystuff. But also to think carefully about the future; it feels really wasteful and self-indulgent to purge everything now, only to have to buy new stuff and support the stuff-generation-advertising-industrial-complex-machine all over again upon my (assumed) return to the normal world.

So where does that leave my stuff? I have to take some of it with me, to furnish my 100sft corner of the world and clothe myself and provide me with stuff to do -- but only what fits into my hatchback, since I'm driving there. All of the art and most of the lovely furniture is going into storage, some is being lent to friends or kept at my old workplace, a small amount is getting sold off or given away. Some of my clothing is going into storage as well, but I'm limited to a 10x9ft space. Everything else must go. "Raid my closet" party, donation bins, and consignment fill the calendar for my next few weeks. So far, that feels just right to me.