Retreat and Reprieve

I spent some time in the Southern Highlands this past week, visiting friends. The scenery was achingly beautiful, the grass lush and soft, trees providing arches along most streets, grand hedges providing privacy for cottages and grand houses. I learnt a lot in those three days.

  1. I can travel light, and be happy anywhere that there is good people.
  2. I could pack up and go with minimal “stuff” at anytime.
  3. I don’t need things to provide contentment. In fact, things are like an albatross, anchoring me to the past.
  4. My friend has an orderly home; everything has a place and can be easily located. So much so, that on my first day, I found it easy to find everything I needed when I helped prepare dinner and set the table.
  5. There is much to achieve each and every day, and each member of the household chips in to get it done. There is discussion around the table about the day ahead, and everyone is heard. Goals are set and plans are made.

The Southern Highlands provided me a retreat and reprieve. It helped solidify that I need to let go, and be happy with empty space in my days and in my possessions. By thinning out what I own, rather than adding to the layers, I have room for what shall truly fulfil me. This patch of paradise provides a slower, gentler way of being. People care about one another, and at times I felt as though I were in another time, a simpler time.

As I approached the suburbs again, I vowed to keep subtracting, rather than adding to my home. I vowed to keep it simple, with everything in its place and a place for everything. I don’t need any more stuff. I just need a pillow on which to lay my head, my child and a few possessions, well-loved and practical. This is all I crave from now on. Empty spaces in my home make for fresh ideas and energy to seep into my mind. Keeping one of every item, rather than a dozen. I am only one little person; I don’t need all this! I am letting go, one drawer and bench top at a time.