At some point, its just time. Time to look at possessions in a new light and get busy lightening the load. The day before trash day is a great choice. You can fill up empty cans and set them by the road with little time to change your mind. Yesterday was a day for that activity.
Old teachers often like to keep a few things because, “You just never know…” Just a year ago, I was in a euphoric state of mind as I returned to the classroom.
A little more than a year ago, I’d returned to college to complete a needed course. I’d fought with the State of Nevada to reinstate my teaching license after I finished the course. I’d spent more money than I like to remember buying things for an empty classroom. Happily, I returned to teach for one more year. My year lasted weeks.
I learned so many valuable lessons in eight short weeks. I learned that some owls are wise and some are otherwise. Some schools are places of love and light while others are a breeding ground of dark despair. Who needs teachers when you have artificial intelligence?
You can’t always get what you want, but more importantly, “You cain’t get nowhere on yesterday’s train.” (Misspelling intended.) Truer words were never spoken.
After blogging yesterday, the gardens of Winterpast needed some attention. The apricots are finally gone, but plums took their place. After the flower beds were tidied up, the lawn needed mowing. Well, after the beds and lawn looked great, the patio needed sweeping. And so it went for a few hours on a most beautiful morning on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.
After the back yard was company-ready, I rolled all the trash cans to the front yard in preparation for trash day. It’s a puzzlement to me. Here I sit, a party of one. Every week, I have four heavy trash cans for pick up. The limit is seven. No sorting or any of that nonsense. Fill ’em and set them out. Tuesday morning, everything disappears for another week. That’s how we roll here in Nevada.
One woman with a 1/2 acre = 4 trash cans per week.
This week, the cans weren’t empty, but they weren’t full either. It was then I realized the day had come to get rid of the last of the teacher materials I’ve hoarded. In some aspects of my life, my future is unknown. However, of these things, I am quite sure. I will NEVER teach in a classroom again. I will NEVER teach General Math, Algebra 1 and 2, Geometry, or anything mathematical ever again. Never. Never. Never. Ever.
The three boxes of outdated materials are now gone. Over the years, I’ve asked plenty of people if they were interested in math materials. The answer was always “No”. People that use these things have hoarded their own favorites. These materials needed to go.
Just as hundreds of VST’s Psychology books met their fate, the books of a former math teacher have left the building.
Oh, there were other things that hit the cans. An automatic bread maker from 1990. Two splintery chicken wire compost bins inherited when I moved here. A variety of things no longer needed or wanted. And so, it goes.
By 8 AM, I’ll have 4 clean cans and the purging can begin again. This time, things from the ranch. Tractor parts. Industrial spray rig parts. Old gloves. Broken tools. A can of dirt from a far off farm loved so much that I had to bring a little to the Nevada desert.
When VST died, everything had a memory. Even an old stapler brought a flood of tears. But as the years have gone by, theses anchors to the past have lost their hold. They’ve become obsolete items that can no longer tether me to a rich and wonderful past that’s been gone a very long time. It’s time to let go of burdensome things . The good stuff is safe in my heart.
Whatever you do today, spend 30 minutes going through items from your past. Look at the things you find and think about a person would cherish them. If no one that comes to mind, it’s probably time to let go. Use the 10% rule. Out of 10 things, choose one to lose. And then, keep going. Whatever will you do with the new space you find?
More tomorrow.