Not Dead Yet! Notes on Filling the Calendar for the Rest of the Year with Joy

Too Old for This Sh*t: How to Take Your Life Back from an Ageist Society

Photo by Gautam Krishnan on Unsplash

The more you lose the more you have…in all the right ways

Melinda Blau

recently sent me a piece she wrote for Huffpost on the idea of human “molting,” how we regularly shed- or should shed I should say- our shit.

This past weekend I took a trunkload of horse gear to the equine consignment shop north of me in Corvallis.

It was a beautiful, hot day. Mika stuck her sleek head out the window as we drove through Oregon farmland to the tiny place, only open on Saturdays. The store was packed with dusty saddles mixed in with shiny new bits and halters.

I heaved the gorgeous Aussie stock saddle inside. The horse blankets. Three pairs of boots. The brand-new halter and rope. The big box of too-small, brand-new breeches and fabulous wool Shadbelly coat.

Riders get it.

Part of me wanted to cry.

Why?

Was I was saying goodbye to riding? Was I never going to gallop a magnificent horse again?

Not at all. By letting go of all this gear, I was saying hello to more of everything.

I’d been hauling all this gear around with me since 2013. Never used the saddle. Your saddle has to fit your horse, and I didn’t have a horse. Let it go.

Never used those boots. Also, I’d never compete, so why the hell did I buy that expensive jacket? It’s classy as hell but I will never be in a place to wear it.

Halloween maybe. Let it go.

I signed the consignment contract, closed the trunk and drove away. Bye bye.

If I want to ride, I can rent. I’ve got clothing and boots for riding. Just don’t need a room full of it.

I did the same with my kayaks in 2022. I had two kayaks, paddles, dry bags. When I did go kayaking it was overseas. I rented. There’s no point in owning what I don’t use.

Eugene Gear Consignment has been selling off truckloads of my accumulated gear, much of it with the tags still on.

You see where I’m going with this.

Anyone who’s ever owned a boat, a horse, a mountain cabin or time share that you never use, you understand. It’s a hole in the Universe into which you pour money.

I’m releasing gear I don’t have to repair, polish, maintain, pack into another box for another house.

This is all stuff I’d have to pay to move to another house where it all sits and gathers dust.

The dream isn’t dead. What’s dead is accumulating more stuff I won’t likely use, which ultimately gets in the way of the life I want to live.

Are you guilty of this? I’d buy something, fold it neatly into a drawer, then forget I had it. Then I’d buy the same thing again later, fold that into another drawer, then forget I had that, too.

In a 2500-square foot house, there were a whole lot of places a whole lot of gear could hide. It’s precisely what happens when we keep getting bigger houses. Nature abhors a vacuum.

How many water-purifying Steripens do you need?

One. I had four.

I need a living space small enough so that my stuff doesn’t get folded into the house like soft butter into cookie dough.

Like a glacier calving, this is big. I’m looking long and hard at all those belongings and asking why I had to have four of this and twelve of that. (They were on sale. Did you use them? No. Then “On Sale” actually means you wasted money saving money. Oh shut up. )

I’ll still ride, raft, kayak, camp, all of it. I’m only keeping what is absolutely necessary. That isn’t much, either.

Yesterday I had a long talk with my river operator and client at Oregon River Experiences. By the end of the call I’d been booked onto four more trips: rafting, bike riding and more, through September.

I’m filling my time with joy, not stuff.

My calendar is crammed with trips to conferences, adventure trips to Alaska and Ecuador, all while I slowly but surely decamp from belongings.

Early morning on the Rogue River in June

For my fellow Boomers, those of us who still ascribe considerable value to so many of the things, this quote is for you:

Chicago Tribune’s Denise Crosby, writing about succeeding generations, says, “Auctioneers and appraisers, junk haulers and moving companies all seem to be echoing the same thing: The market is flooded with baby boomer rejects. And they cite a number of reasons our kids are turning down the possessions we so generously offer to them. They rent rather than own, live in smaller spaces, collect more digital than physical items, and tend to put their money toward experiences rather than things.” (author bolded)

Nobody cares what I paid for that six-foot tall Thai Buddha.

I treasure the freedom I feel every time I drop another big box at Goodwill, consignment stores and the city dump. Wherever I go next, that means less moving cost, less to downpack, put away and manage.

More time for life.

In the time that is left to me, shall I hug my hoards of stuff, or shall I fill my days with joy, experiences, adventure and memories?

Let go of stuff, make room for life.

Let’s play.

Photo by Nhành Mai Mới on Unsplash

Thanks to

Melinda Blau

and others for their constant inspiration and encouragement. Thanks also to my subscribers and those who read and comment on my work.