1) Cultural Strongholds
2) The Cultural Stronghold of Being in Control
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A theme of our past year has been purging the "stuff" in our lives. Last July, we left on our traveling adventure with 4 suitcases, a stroller, and 3 car seats, which actually isn't that much when you consider that we would be gone for 9 months. One of our main goals was to live simply, in every sense of the concept. We began with our physical needs, buying only what we needed and traveling light. With that in mind, we still managed to collect plenty along the way including every kind of winter clothing, assorted toys, bicycles, a coffee maker (because we kept showing up in new places that didn't have one and caffeine remained at the top of the "need" list), school supplies, stuffed animals, and of course, mementos from every touristy place we visited.The problem was that we had to keep moving, literally. Each time a new change came along, we had to reconfigure our collection so that it could all fit into our car (what I consider the size of a small SUV.) If you've ever taken a road trip with children, then you understand this was not an easy task. We were already living with only the bare essentials, so anything we allowed ourselves to collect felt either necessary or meaningful.
We discussed other options, like boxing things up to ship to the U.S., or buying a luggage container for the roof of the car, but those options felt like compromises to our original goal to live simply. Anyone can buy more storage space, but it was the discipline of regularly purging a lot of stuff we liked that began to shape our character. With the size of our car as the limiting factor, we repeatedly opened ourselves up to redefining the difference between our needs and our wants.
In the process of packing up monthly, sometimes weekly, I often found there was something I had trouble letting go of. There were all kinds of reasons for wanting to keep things... memories, fear of future need, comfort, not wanting to waste money and buy the same thing again later. It was strange to find that certain items had almost a physical hold on me, and I struggled to justify keeping them.
What surprised me every time was the feeling that overcame me when I finally decided to let an item go, sometimes only after a disagreement with my husband about the importance of said item. I expected sadness, or regret, or loss. Every time, I was overcome instead by the feeling of freedom.
Anything we will ever own is accompanied by a lie we find easy to believe. The lie comes in many variations, but the crux of the lie is to elevate the importance of the object in our lives. It tells us that we need this particular item for happiness or comfort or ease, and letting go of it will harm us in some way. That lie is a well-established stronghold, and we become slaves to it when we can't let things go.
The truth I understand better than ever is that letting go of things brings me freedom, and therefore ownership brings the opposite of freedom. I can see it in the contrast of my two lives, one much simpler than another. Part of the lie I bought is that all of these things purpose to make my life easier in some way, but I will tell you that a bigger house takes longer to clean, and requires purchasing more furniture to fill more rooms, and becomes a time vacuum in the effort to maintain all those things. The more toys my kids own, the more toys get spread around the house throughout the day, and the more time it takes to pick up those toys every evening, assuming they get picked up. Bigger, newer, and more does not equate to better.
All of the stuff just adds to the burden of investing more and more in myself, me, and the things I own. Very few items I own represent time or money invested in issues that impact an eternal level. The minute I take even a small step backwards to look at a bigger picture, the "stuff" in my life doesn't matter. For this reason I find it supremely unfulfilling.
I share this in my effort to reconcile the difference between two extreme worlds. While the reality of our lives as travelers could be pared down to a few suitcases, the realities of our lives back at home inevitably include a lot more ownership. Yes, it can be viewed as good stewardship, and part of being a responsible adult, and despite the picture I just painted, I don't actually believe it is wrong to own things... I just wonder how we can practice ownership in a way that is honors an eternal perspective? One conviction we want to live by is that whatever we own we should be sharing. Own a car? Go out of your way to pick people up in it. Own a house? Invite people to it. Own a set of china dishes? Eat on them with good friends, and maybe even small children. Maybe. Own a lot of good books? Loan them out and don't worry about whether you get them back. We can remain in a healthy status with our things as long as they don't begin to be the owners of us. Sometimes we don't realize we have bought the lie until we have trouble sharing or letting go.
Our normal California lives will never have to fit into one of our vehicles, but that season practicing simplicity in the discipline of purging will not go wasted. I feel especially glad for the victories I've seen in the lives of my children, as one child in particular comes from the variety that cannot throw away her straw from a restaurant but instead wants to keep it in a special box in her room, filled with other such junk. Eek! At the end of our trip, watching her freely choose toys to give away was part of an ending I never expected.
Behind the letting go is freedom from the stronghold of material things and the false sense of security they provide. In letting go of things we can hold, we invite the same freedom to filter into other parts of our life. Living simply is a philosophy for more than the stuff we collect, but also for our emotional hang ups, our circumstances, our relationships, our whole lives. This is the miracle of breaking a stronghold.
