Showing posts with label Year of Less. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Year of Less. Show all posts

My No Buy Year Reflections

Last November I made the decision to begin a “No Buy Year.” For me, this meant that for one year I would not buy any new clothing purchased for the purpose of social-wear or work-wear. I already own plenty of these things, and I wanted to wear what I already had and allow it to be enough. 
 
My clothes fall into two categories. The stuff I actually wear, and the clothes I want my ideal version of myself to wear. The clothes I want my ideal version of myself to wear are things I bought in hopes that it would make my life easier or make me look better. Clothes I thought would make me feel more put together. I also bought books I thought smart Terra should read. 
 
For the past eleven months each time I come across something I’m not wearing, and don't want to wear, or a book I don’t have any interest in reading, I’ve been asking myself. Who did you buy this for? The person you are? Or the person you hope to become? 

Working with What You've Got, Space, Home Peace and Why Downsizing Isn't for Everyone

“Bless a thing and it will bless you. Curse it and it will curse you… If you bless a situation, it has no power to hurt you, and even if it is troublesome for a time, it will gradually fade out, if you sincerely bless it.” 
—Emmet Fox (1886-1951) Early twentieth-century New Thought spiritual leader 
 
Downsizing isn’t for everyone. Minimalism, or living moderately minimal, like I’m currently living, isn’t an expectation everyone should aspire to. Some people live in larger spaces, with extra closets and rooms: they have a garage, or a basement, or an attic. Space to hold the things they are currently using and want to save. 
 
I have limited closet and cupboard space in my home. Our living space is small. But we do have plenty of space to hold a moderate amount of clothes, and other things we need, and a small amount of space to store a few special items and keepsakes. This is the main reason I’m living moderately minimal. I don’t enjoy closets that are too full, making it difficult for me to find what I’m looking for. I also don’t enjoy living in a cramped environment, and I find it hard to relax in a crowded room. Although I’ve never tried, my guess is that I would also find it hard to relax in a room that was too sparse. I want comfort and to be surrounded with things that bring me joy, along with plenty of air space, room to breathe and to move about without bumping into anything. Perhaps if someday, I find myself living in a larger home, I might want to own more. What I know for sure is that at this moment in time, in this season, less feels like plenty. 
 
I’ve named 2024 My No Buy Year. 

When I want to buy something, I ask myself WHERE WILL I KEEP IT? WHEN WILL I USE IT? These simple questions are guiding me well. 
 
Yet, I also believe that if a person lives in a smaller space and they want to own a lot of stuff, and if they are comfortable with a bit of crowding, and if their home feels the way they want it to feel, then there is no reason to downsize. There is no reason why they should ever feel like they “should” downsize. Because downsizing isn’t for everyone. It is not necessary. It’s a current condition some people are seeking. Yet there is not any sensible reason to downsize if you do not desire it. 
 
But if you do want to downsize, it’s important to understand why you have the desire and to create reasonable steps to get there. And if somewhere along the way you change your mind, it’s okay to change your plans. 
 
In the beginning the reason I began downsizing is so that we could make a good life for ourselves and fit what we need to thrive in a small living space based between the ocean and redwoods. We currently do not have the money to live in a larger space in this beautiful place we have chosen to make our home. 
 
Three years after doing the hard work of letting go of excess stuff, when I finally began to feel like our small home no longer felt cramped, like a pair of shoes that I’d outgrown, that’s when my heart began to sing. This is when I began to understand that we are constantly in flux, and there isn’t a constant self. At least not for me. Each version of myself tends to amass a collection of clothing and material goods related to the work, hobbies, or interests I’ve had at various stages in my life. 
 
I also began to understand that when I hang on to some of the physical items that belonged to one of my “past selves” sometimes I find it difficult to let myself grow beyond, to evolve in a natural flow, and sometimes I feel bad about not using something I wanted, spent a lot of money on, or wanted to save just in case. In case later on I might change my mind and want to go back. As if maybe, I should stay in place, instead of allowing my feelings to carry me forward. 
 
Yet when I let go of some of those items from past versions of my life, I begin feeling there is space and energy to invite in the person I am in this moment. Recently I let go of a number of books I bought many years ago because I thought smart Terra ought to read them. But I never did read those books, and life is short. I have plenty of other books on my night stand that I’m reading my way though, and plenty more I’m looking forward to reading. When I gave the books, I thought I should read to the used bookstore, a peaceful feeling as wide as the sky took hold of me. Guilt lifted and now I have more space on my bookshelf for the books calling me now. Dear readers please know that before we moved to this beautiful small space near the sea, I had two large bookshelves filled from floor to ceiling. Change has come to me because it was asking to be let in and I have opened the door. 

Yet for some of my close friends saving things, surrounding themselves with many keepsakes or other items from past versions of themselves, feels comforting. This is okay. If it feels good and if the feeling surrounding the items brings peace, then in my mind there isn’t any reason to feel bad or guilty about keeping them. Home peace is all about feeling peaceful at home. It's our own personal way of living and being, and it’s nobody’s business but our own.

Happier with Less Follow along with me.

Real Life: Clothes That Fit My Lifestyle

It has been four months since I began my "No Buy Year" of not buying anything I don’t need to wear on a regular basis on any given day, weather permitting. What I can tell you thus far is that my closet is now filled only with clothes that match my needs and moods. Everything purchased before I moved, that didn’t feel right for my new ultra-casual lifestyle in a new climate—has been removed, given away. I still have plenty, a bit more than I would like to own, and I have a desire to continue paring down. Yet the good news is I no longer open my closet door and stand in my underwear, in the cold, searching for this or that. No more decision fatigue. It’s 45 degrees. Do I want to wear my green flannel shirt? Or my blue and gray plaid flannel? 

Or, is it a day when I need to be a bit more dressed up? Easy. I have a couple of put-tother polished options too. I have a few outfit formulas depending on what the day calls for, some variety, but not so much that it overwhelms me, and everything plays nicely together, with the weather, and where I need to go, and what I’m planning to do. 
 
Maybe I should have called this a “Low Buy Year.” Because this month I have again purchased a few items, including another flannel shirt and another pair of comfortable knit joggers, and a couple of books that I was not able to get from the library. But I have not purchased any clothing that sits abandoned in my closet waiting for a turn to go out, purchased on sale, waiting for the right season, or the right occasion. This was my goal. 
 
I’ve also noticed that I’m buying way less overall. Spending less money at the grocery store and have lost the desire to browse anything that I don’t actually need. It’s now March 30th. Yesterday when I checked my bank account balance, I discovered I had more money than usual left over this month. Which means I was able to put the money into my savings account. This was also a paramount goal with this “No Buy Year” to save money for car repairs, and those other necessities and emergencies, and to have a bit to spare for humble vacations. 

Happier with Less Follow along with me.

Holding

Outside my window the wind is picking up. “Notice me, it says. “I am back.” Dark scudding clouds, quick pellets of rain start. All morning my mind flirts. “Go for a long walk.” "No, it’s going to rain.” “Stay in and write a journal post.” Now a light rain is falling, and I’ve got a pot of split pea soup on the stove.

I’ve recently returned from a few days in Bodega Bay along with wandering up Highway 1 without a plan, stopping when the ocean or forest called to us, winding our way into Mendocino County. Slow days, along with a slow drive home.  
 
I have also been wandering in my journal, with insights jumping out at me. After only three months into My No Buy Year, already I can see that this is going to be about more than just not buying clothes for the sole purpose of social wear, it’s about changing the habits and routines I’ve spent years perfecting. 
 
My worst habit is saving clothes for good. I was one of those kids in the 50s and 60s instructed to come home from school and change into play clothes. And this is what I did throughout my teen years and into adulthood. I’d come home from school (or wherever I had been) and change out of my favorite bell bottom jeans, chambray shirt with embroidered flowers, and put on house clothes. As an adult I’d come home from work and take off my office wear and change. Always a clear divide between what I wore as "a person of the world” and the clothes I wore at home. 
 
A number of years ago I had stopped this pattern and had begun wearing my favorite things often, and then along came the pandemic, and most of the time I didn’t wear my usual clothes. Instead I put on my oldest jeans soft and faded, pajama pants, and everything else in my closet just hung around, waiting to be chosen, and for a turn to be invited out. 

Then we moved to a different part of California with a casual rugged lifestyle, a colder climate and weather pattern. The result was I bought clothes to meet my new needs. Before we moved I had edited my closet and let go of many things, but with the addition of the new stuff to fit my new life, I had too much and most of it wasn't being worn.
 
For the past two months however, I’ve been wearing almost all of the winter-weather clothes I own. I’ve made an effort to wear the things I seldom wear in order to discover why. And I’ve given my favorite clothes, which are the things I usually wear, a rest. 
 
Anything that was too tight, itched, or just didn’t feel right, or feel like me anymore, along with the things I regretted buying are gone, given away. I also gave away everything that was difficult to wash and dry. I want my laundry to be easy. I will gladly hand-wash things that would likely wear out fast in a washing machine, but those items need to be limited. 

There are still plenty of things in my closet. It’s not bare, but it’s still a bit more crowded than I would like it to be. The commitment I’ve made to myself for my “no buy year” is not to buy anything for "social wear" because I usually don’t wear these things often enough to merit adding more to what I already own. Though I will replace anything that gets a lot of wear and is wearing out. In February I bought new jeans. I wear jeans often.
 
What I have learned so far is that my clothes typically fall into two categories: The clothes I actually use, and the clothes I wanted my ideal version of myself to use. 
 
The clothes I wanted my ideal version of myself to use are the things I had once bought, or things someone had given me, that held my hopes that it would make my life or myself better. Clothes I thought would make me feel more put together, or help me feel more comfortable. 
 
With each item in my closet, I’m now asking myself. “Who did I buy this for? The person I am? Or the person I hoped to become?” 
 
In the past I seldom purchased clothing that I needed to wear right away. My habit was to buy things to fulfill future needs, and for things that might come up. I bought clothes on sale at the end of the season. But often when the season arrived, I’d discover that I didn’t need the item, it didn’t fit, or I no long wanted it, and wished I hadn’t bought it. 
 
But not all of the clothes saved in my closet were bought by me. Many were lightly used, gently worn, hand me downs from family members and friends. Things I likely would never have bought for myself and yet I paid the rent for them to take up space in my closet. Makeshift scrapes of memories that belonged to someone else. 
 
Right now from my view outside my window, I can see the wind is doing high drama. Tree branches are swaying. The rain has stopped, and the wind carries the scent of the ocean, soft and seductive, pulling my thoughts back to Bodega Bay. All I brought with me was an extra pair of jeans, an extra flannel shirt, extra t-shirts, pajama pants, socks, underwear, extra shoes, my jacket and rain shell. I had everything I wanted and needed, including my freedom from worry. 

Whereas my husband unintentionally traveled minimally. He left his carefully packed, large duffle bag with his clothes at home. He said, “The bag was a bit too heavy to carry with the other stuff I had in my arms and I planned to go back into the house and retrieve it.” But it was forgotten. 

Each night in our clean and simple motel room he fashioned a bathrobe from the white bath towels, and dried his socks and underwear on the radiator. And he had a lovely time, even without extra clothes, this from a man who owns plenty, and has no desire to become minimal. 
 
My end of the year goal is to own only what I love wearing on a regular basis, along with a couple of dressier outfits for nicer occasions. And to gain some extra space in my small closet, room for my clothes to breath, in this beautiful location where I live by the sea. And to gift myself with a mindset where I would behave as kind, grace-filled and fun-loving as he did, if my duffle bag was left behind! 
 
“Creativity is a lamp, not a candle.” Julia Cameron writes in The Right to Write. “Something wants to write through us as badly as we want to write. Discovering this is a matter of time and practice.” 
 
I pick up my pen and begin writing in my journal. Along with writing, the something else that wants to come though me as badly as I want it, is simplicity, with a desire to thrive with less.

My No Buy Year

For some folks looking to downsize or limit what comes into their home it means not buying craft supplies or anything in a specific category where they already have enough. Others want to put limits on everything they buy and bring into their home for an entire year. In November of 2023 I made a decision to begin a No Buy Year. For me this means for one year I will not buy any new clothing purchased for the purpose of social-wear or work-wear. I already own plenty of these things, and I want to wear what I already have and allow it to be enough. 
 
I’m a writer and work from home. I attend a weekly writers group on Zoom. I also do author visits with book groups on Zoom, and sometimes in person. I give readings and participate in discussion groups, but I don't do all of these things on a weekly basis. My daily doings are usually a long walk at the ocean, or in the redwoods. To the bookstore, or the library, Zen Center or a UU fellowship gathering. Running errands, the grocery store and that sort of thing. We don’t eat out often, and when we do it’s usually lunch out after we have walked on the beach or have gone hiking, or we have a tailgate picnic, and I would not want to be dressed up. Dinner with friends is often a backyard casual meal. 
 
My closet is somewhat small, and when I moved into a new home two years ago, I had plenty of extra space on the hanging rod and extra space inside my four-drawer unit, and now both are almost too full for my personal preference. I’ve received a number of excellent, lightly worn hand me downs from friends, so I know this is partly where the excess came from. But also, since moving to a new climate (colder) I’ve bought new things. 
 
The good news is all of my clothes are in sync with my casual lifestyle vibe, and everything can be washed in the washing machine. A few things can go into the dryer, but most need to be line dried. But I have plenty and I don’t want or need more. Since moving to a new area I no longer have the same work life or social life. Now, I’m working from home, and my social life is causal and sometimes rugged, hiking, backyard dinners with friends outside in the redwoods or near the ocean. My go-to outfits are jeans, cotton, linen and flannel shirts. Yet if I did go out to a nicer causal restaurant, or need to be dressed nicer for social gatherings, meetings and writers events, fortunately my wardrobe is ideal. I don't need more. 
 
My greatest challenge is that I no longer have my own washing machine and must share with my condo neighbors, and abide by the limited hours we can use the laundry room, 8am -8pm and it’s nearly impossible to get a washing machine on weekends. Also, no more tossing a load into the washer late at night or early in the morning. This is the key reason I try to wear as few clothes as possible each week. This also teaching me that a small wardrobe is a good fit for me, and it’s a key reason I’ve put my wardrobe on a diet. The other main reason is that I don't do well with excess. Having too much of anything feels overwhelming to me. I feel best with a moderate amount of stuff. Less to pick up and put away, and less to care for. Especially since I am now living in a small space. 
 
Now, what am I allowed to buy during my No Buy Year? 

I’m not a big over spender and yet I’m hoping to allocate any extra money that comes my way this year on items that bring me joy. I’m allowed to buy books on Kindle, but I need to limit hard copy books because my bookshelves are full, and I live in a small space. Still, if I can’t get a library copy of a book, I will buy it. I will also buy experiences, music on iTunes, tickets to a concert, a dinner out, vacations, replacement items of any of the things that I use daily, including replacement running shoes. Also, any of the clothes that I wear regularly can be replaced if they wear out. But first I must search my closet and make sure there isn’t something else that could serve the same purpose. No upgrades just for the sake of replacing are allowed during my no buy year. Within the guidelines I've set for myself I do have a few planned clothing purchases to make in 2024, so I will be buying a few things, and yet I'm placing my focus on items I need. Other things I'd like to have but don't need must wait until next year and I will check in with myself and discover if I still want them. 
 
I own very few clothes that I usually only wear at home, and I’m at home most of the time. But instead of buying new clothes to wear at home I’m pulling items from my regular wardrobe. Instead of always wearing my (sad) Gap jogger pants (well worn) around the house, I have begun to wear my nicer joggers and hoodies. 

Usually, I put on my nice joggers and hoodie, before my daily walk to the footpath along the water, where lots of other women walk, and most of them are also wearing jogger pants that are fresh looking and not worn out, and nice hoodies. And then when I get home, I take them off (to save for good) and I put my sad Gap sweat pants back on. And now, instead, I’m just keeping my nice joggers and hoodie on all day long if I want, and I’m feeling more upbeat. If they wear out, oh well. Then I will buy another pair. 

Back in 2011 I wrote a lovely guest post, "The Clothes We Wear at Home." While the piece didn't go viral, it is widely read and I still receive reader mail with kind words. What happened to that girl?  I had broken the bad habit of saving clothes for good. I even wrote about it in my recent memoir. Remember? See chapter 31 and 32. Then the pandemic arrived and with my recent move I reverted back. Now it’s time to push forward again! No wonder my closet has grown so full, I’m not wearing my clothes often enough. I must stop saving things for good, and get back on the good path. My life is now! 
 
So, yes, sure, making an effort to wear more of my clothes will require I make more of an effort to do laundry, and line dry my clothes in my small apartment/flat/condo. But since I like doing laundry (I love water and doing water chores) but I don’t like the inconvenience of not owning my own washer—it’s time for me to change my mindset. I must adjust to the fact that this is my new normal for my beautiful life in a small flat near the ocean. 
 
Although I'm posting this in January, I made the decision to begin a No Buy Year back in November 2023, and once the idea popped into my mind, it felt right to begin right away. I’ve been saddled up and riding into my No Buy Year for a few weeks now, and it feels good. Big smile! 

Happier with Less Follow along with me.
When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner’s pick, a wood-carver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year. —Annie Dillard


We Who Walk the Seven Ways is Terra Trevor’s memoir about seeking healing and finding belonging. After she endured a difficult loss, a circle of Native women elders embraced and guided Trevor (mixed-blood Cherokee, Lenape, Seneca, and German) through the seven cycles of life in Indigenous ways. Over three decades, these women lifted her from grief, instructed her in living, and showed her how to age from youth into beauty. 

With tender honesty, Trevor explores how every ending is always a beginning. Her reflections on the deep power of women’s friendship, losing a child, reconciling complicated roots, and finding richness in every stage of life show that being an American Indian with a complex lineage is not about being part something, but about being part of something. 

University of Nebraska Press | Barns & Noble| Bookshop & IndieBound Amazon

“Terra Trevor’s memoir is a gentle invitation to journey with her across decades, an invitation to notice with her as she seeks healing and finds belonging. There were phrases and sentences I underlined, places where I wept, passages that will remain with me as they drew me to insights I’d previously struggled to name. I closed the final pages and knew that in reading this book, I had been the recipient of a generous and much-needed gift. While I can certainly finish a book in a day, I chose to move slowly through this one, letting each idea, each paragraph, each reflection gently spill over me, allowing the pages to alter me in some way.” —Patrice Gopo, author of Autumn Song: Essays on Absence

 "Terra Trevor’s Pushing up the Sky is a revelation of the struggles and triumphs packed into the hyphens between Korean and Native American and American. From her, we learn that adoption can best be mutual, that the adoptive parent needs acculturation in the child’s ways. With unflinching honesty and unfailing love, Trevor details the risks and heartaches of taking in, the bittersweetness of letting go, and the everlasting bonds that grow between them all. With ‘Pushing up the Sky’, the ‘literature of adoption’ comes of age as literature, worthy of an honored place in the human story." —Robert Bensen, editor of Children of the Dragonfly: Native American Voices on Child Custody and Education