I like our house. We live in it and with it; we’ve nested. The house and grounds feel spacious. The grounds are open but private. The grounds has trees, which provide a screen and offer shade for the house. We’ve shaped its interior and its shaped us. We have rooms for us and for each of us. The house has old things, borrowed things, new things, and some blue walls. The house often has beautiful interior light.
We’re contemplating a move to a new residence, a de-nesting to a new nesting. It’d be a smaller, less costly nest, suited to wading into our diminishing productivity and increasing austerity. Our left-brain bullet points are numerous; the numbers are persuasive and seemingly to our future benefit. It’s a contemplation now but in a few weeks a contingency? We could not downsize and live with all our possessions. I could not nest with all my possessions. All of them and us wouldn’t fit. My right brain is mulish about all of this.
I possessed two rooms in our house, transformed them. In turn I was transformed and we were transformed. The imagining and thinking of voluntarily giving our house up, my rooms up, deconstructing them and the time, talent, and labor put into them, is shocking me. I’m shocked at the thought of losing our home, my house, my rooms, our objects in our rooms. My objects in my rooms. We wouldn’t lose them, they’d be packed away, but they all won’t fit in the new nest. I’m possessed.
Possessed I rob myself of my inner freedom and my freedom to act. I hobble myself. Do I want to be hobbled by my possessions? No. Are my possessions the same as me? No. Do my possessions reflect me? Maybe a little, but like a metaphor, they break down quickly. Is what I do with my things a reflection of me? Yes.
I’m biased to action; I pray the consequences of my actions will be my possessions. But by my possessions I keep myself from doing.
I like our house, our nest, my stuff. I feel mulish about scaling down. And I'm a little frightened too; the uncertainty!