Holding Pattern

Every now and then, life develops in such a way that the events seem like I'm in some sort of holding pattern. The last several weeks feel like that sort of cycle. Nothing moves, and the general feel is that tension is slowly building to some new path or direction. The way things are working out is not bad or good, but I want something to break free and identify a particular path forward.

I'm still making progress. Today, I divested myself of five books at a newly opened book store on East Capitol Street between Fifth and Fourth. I passed this place the other day, and they indicated that they purchased books. The lovely young lady manning the register when I came in this afternoon indicated that she wasn't the person who could price books for purchase by the store. I was out for my afternoon walk, so not wanting to carry the books back to my car I left the books with the clerk. She also took my name and my phone number, so I departed the store, relieved of the weight of the five books and my contact information.

Minimalism Donation of Five Books

It turns out that I'm probably not smart enough to work at Google, but it does feel good to create a hole in my bookshelf. This early experiment in minimalism appears to have resulted in gaining a much greater sense of clarity on why I've held onto material things for much longer than they appear to have any use. Two reasons seem to dominate my thinking. The first thing that pops into my head when contemplating what to give up next is that I should hold onto the thing "just in case" I might need it at some imagined time in the future. The prevalence of this thinking surprises me a little. The strength of the argument is not objectively high, but it's a powerful motivator. I believe this says something about the power of imagination for a yet to be experienced future. Thankfully, I've learned to recognize this argument for the balderdash it represents and have developed some level of discipline to counter it.

My ego devises a second, more subtle argument. I've experienced this argument with both books and clothing, so far, but it comes to the forefront with books more strongly. I look at a book, and I remember reading it, experiencing it, and understand how it has impacted my life. The book has become a part of how I define myself, and I find it quite difficult to part with the physical manifestation of how my ego defines who I am in the present and how I became that person. This internal check on my stated desire to simplify creates a higher level of anxiety. On the upside I've found that if I can get past the initial emotional reaction and actually give up that physical manifestation of self, I find a clearer path to thinking about the opportunities that exist going forward. The holes in my bookshelf have cleared my mind to be able to think more deliberately about what should now fill that space. I think the answer is not much, but the great thing about it is that the space is now clear and the opportunities are easier to see.

I wrapped up my walk by visiting my old friend on the Anacostia.

Anacostia Afternoon with USS Barry

If my schedule develops according to plan, I'll sadly miss the last day that the USS Barry spends at her pier in the Anacostia River. The 6th of May should mark the last day when she slips her moorings and begins the long(ish) journey to be recycled. That day, whenever it may actually occur, will mark the end of a three decade era that the ship served as a visible reminder to the residents and visitors to Washington, DC of the history of the Navy in the shaping of the United States. She's become such a part of my walking routine, that her departure will create one of those holes like the ones developing in my bookshelf. I believe I'll be sad to see her go, but sometimes looking forward requires one to remove monuments to the past. 

We'll see what happens tomorrow on my journey of clearing the past to make way for the future. As always, I hope and believe I'll be surprised.