when stuff matters: worthwhile materialism

Moving, especially internationally, has always been a time that we shed many of our belongings, whether because we have a limited shipping allowance, are moving to a furnished residence, or because I am so sick of all the clutter and take advantage of the opportunity to simplify.  This last move all three of those reasons forced drastic cuts to our accumulated family stuff- all the furniture went, as did ¾ of the books, many of the clothes, toys and bedding. 

We donated some to good causes, sold some at a yard sale, sent some to the dump. The hardest to give up were my kitchen tools, the main instruments of my creative expression for the past four and a half years. My favorite ones I gave to good friends who are using them still. Friends and their children are also sleeping in beds that we passed on to them at that move and the one before it, beds that we had acquired from friends in Bangladesh and Vietnam.  I love to think about this chain of things that are more than just inanimate objects, that help us stay connected and in each other’s consciousness, even when we are far apart and rarely in touch.

The emptier our house became, the more I felt liberated, freed from material possessions.  I started fantasizing about tiny minimalist houses or how nice it would be to have no house at all, just live out of the car and camp. At some point I realized that it had become a kind of destructive rampage and I should consult some friends before I threw away all my old journals and photos.  In the end the camping equipment, photo albums, art, bicycles, and a sewing machine stayed in a storage locker in San Francisco, 500 lbs of clothes, instruments, art supplies and books were crated up and loaded onto a ship bound for the Middle East, and what was left was loaded into our minivan for our drive across the country.

I know the whole point of them coming and packing it up was so I could have it again later, but I also had a friend once whose husband worked for Maersk and heard about how many of those containers are swept off the ships each year. Ever since then I have let go of my attachment to everything in that shipment the instant it’s wrapped and boxed, and don’t truly believe that I will see it again until the truck pulls up outside my new home.  And, despite that complete letting go, there are not many moments that match seeing your possessions again after months away from them.  No matter that I had felt so relieved to have them gone- having them again always had me blessing the foresight that I had known these particular things would help my new house really feel like home.

between homes

We're in between homes now and I feel like I should be writing something reflective and inspiring about it but I just don't have it in me. In the past two months I have taken my husband to the airport on his way to his new job in Qatar, given away, donated, or thrown away almost everything in our house, arranged for a relatively tiny shipment that's on a boat somewhere between San Francisco and Doha, packed what remained into the van with three kids and drove across the country to my home state of Vermont.  Now I'm in the process of trying to see old friends, spend time with family, and feast my senses on the cool lakes and lush green of this New England summer. As always, this in-between time is frustrating and illuminating, exhausting and confusing.  

With all that in mind, please accept these snippets of where I'm at and what I'm learning:

Leaving yet another home earlier than expected and getting rid of so many of our belongings made me determined to lose all expectations of permanence.  Staying in the homes of friends who are settled in their home country and state for the indefinite future reminded me why that can be a good thing, too.  I can also understand why it could be hard for someone so settled to understand how I feel about this move- it's not a family adventure following years of planning, I'm not coming from a place of particular grounding or balance. 

When will we fly off to Qatar to make our family whole again and start settling in to the latest edition of "home?"  We don't know.  It all depends on how long it takes our paperwork to wend its way through the necessary bureaucracy.  Sometimes I can appreciate how all this uncertainty is strengthening my ability to be patient and resilient but lately I'm wondering when the roller coaster will stop so I can get off and practice walking in a straight line again.  I’ve given up trying to maintain much routine with the kids when we haven't yet spent more than five nights in the same place.  I can tell how much they need a home base, how relieved we all are when we return to a place they’ve been before. 

My youngest sees Vermont license plates and shouts, “Mom! Look! It's your people!” I feel that way too about my home state but with all the reunions with old friends over the past 4000 miles since we left California I'm starting to remember that my people are also spread wide across the country and around the world.  It's been a rich time to reconnect with people who knew me in many versions of my life. I have so much gratitude for these friends near and far and I hope that over time, I can be and provide what my friends need along their paths. I am also starting to remember that my people are fellow expats, even the ones I haven’t met yet- they tend to be a welcoming group, attuned to the challenges and needs of a family moving to a new place and generally willing to offer advice and extend invitations. 

 

I'm more thankful than ever for the years we’ve lived in free-range kid neighborhoods in Georgia and California where the kids have gotten more practice playing with whoever's around and not relying on organized activities to entertain themselves.  So far on our trip across the country this has put them in good stead for playing with any kids we encountered.  When we were living in Dhaka I imagined that I would want to move back to the US when the kids got older so they could experience exactly that freedom to roam without being hemmed in by walls, guards, and the watchful eyes of housekeepers and drivers. 

Being in Vermont has eased my struggle with the decision to move to Qatar. Nearly every move abroad that I have made, since the first one when I was 16, has been from my home state. While I love it here, it still feels like a springboard, about to launch me into something new and exciting.

on possessions: a break from packing

I'm writing this to take a break from packing because sorting books (give away/store/ship) is making me sick.  I keep thinking it's all fine, that all I need to do is focus on getting things done and making the best of everything and stop thinking about the big picture and by all means stop questioning any of it.  I was fine with giving away the dining room table and the kitchen island.  I completed a heartless culling of the stuffed animals without a second thought.  It was starting in on the books that finally broke me. I was going through my books again for the second time in a year and a half, trying to figure out if a book I haven't read in decades is worth making the effort to store or bring along.  It's tempting to just throw it all away, be in solidarity with refugees of wars, earthquakes, and fires.  That would be fair, right?  It's always bothered me when we've moved to countries where we live with luxuries that are impossible fantasies to the people my husband's organization is trying to help.  This time we're moving to a country that is so much wealthier than the ones where we've lived before and finally I'm trying to get rid of everything.  Is it really a quest for solidarity, or a rejection of the idea of a forever home- am I just giving up? Books represent a sure future with leisure and furniture.  Once again I think about how we should never have come back to the US where the expectation of putting down roots became mine too, in spite of myself.  Now with those expectations thoroughly shattered, twice in a row, I'm ready to rejoin the transient expat tribe.

Keeping the bikes and camping gear in a storage unit seems like simple good sense since no matter what condition we're in when we return to the US, we'll have shelter, a stove, cooking utensils, and minimal transportation.  Our previous postings included a generous shipping allowance.  When we lived in West Africa, a friend who worked for a shipping company told us how often those containers get blown or washed off the boats, so every time since then that full container left our home I would let go of everything and imagine it was gone forever until it arrived miraculously at its destination.  Much as I'd like to let go of my attachment to it all, unpacking the boxes always felt like Christmas.  This time around our residence will be furnished so our shipment will be much smaller than before.  We're getting rid of all the furniture except for a cabinet full of art supplies and the kids' art table and chairs- which we will ship along with us, and which  will probably be grown out and given away of by our next move.

The kids don't know what they don't need yet.  Thank goodness they've spent so much time playing outside lately- they're pretty satisfied with a climbing tree and a muddy hill, and with books or art projects or the occasional movie when they come inside.  This is great as I empty the house, but we're moving to the desert in the middle of summer- muddy hillsides and climbing trees will probably require a flight to another country.  Most of what I'm willing to drag along on this next move is theirs: books, dress-ups, art supplies, clothes to grow into, a few stuffed animals.  Even as I have been feeling like the future is ever more uncertain, I'm determined to create some version of steadiness for the kids.  Am I required to do this by hauling material possessions around the world?  I want to think it's more of a point of view than about the stuff, but I can't see into their heads. I appreciate how long it's taken me to understand that for myself.

And now it's time to stop wallowing and take care of the books and everything else.

only the beginning...