The Last Clothes Swap

Last night I hosted my last clothes swap.  For 25 years, beginning in graduate school in Austin, I’ve invited women of all ages, styles and sizes to bring whatever is no longer working in their closets to my house. We sort through the items and organize them and then see what we’d like to try on and take home.  It’s a talkative, happy gathering and after a couple hours, I pack up what remains to bring to a charity.  I’ve done this in four cities for probably a couple hundred women, many of them faithful repeat attendees.

I’m letting this lovely tradition go because  I’m moving to a minimalist lifestyle, though my husband calls me a minimalist wannabe because I still have way too many clothes, books, shoes, coats, etc. My DNA is one of a gatherer and I love to shop, especially consignment stores, where the inventory is varied and unpredictable. Yet I’ve observed my inner addict often enough simply wanting to acquire for the sake of having. I've even noticed in winnowing my closet that the items I don’t love were purchased when I simply had to buy something.  The shopping addiction isn’t as virulent as others I have, and used clothing doesn’t break the bank, but I want to be governed not at all by compulsion and delight in my favorite sweaters I can easily find.

I’m also no longer going to host clothing swaps because I want to make room for a deeper connection with friends. As six of us sat around a table eating soup during a break last night,the conversation was easy and nourishing. This is what I really want. But would people come even without an “event”? For 25 years I’ve believed I have to give my guests something of value beyond my company, that nobody would come just to hang out and talk. I've been devaluing my presence, which is why I've needed to have more stuff to feel legitimate.

 I used to drink before I got to a party because I feared the awkwardness of chit chat before things got off the ground, lubricated liberally with alcohol.  Now, over a decade sober, I’m using activities for the same purpose.  We host fundraisers and pool parties, family holidays and meditation circles,  but rarely do we invite friends over to just hang out, eat, talk, laugh, connect.

To explore that experience, I have to let go of the old and trust that not only do I have enough, but I am enough.

Honoring Intuition

 

My husband and I attended a gala the other night and bought two raffle tickets.  During the dinner, they called the winning number and, in a room of 600 people, it was one digit past ours. That caught my attention; there was a lesson for me here. My timing had been off all day--I got to the gym that  morning at 5:40 when it didn’t open until 6 am.  Had I pushed us to arrive at the raffle table just a tad too soon? There had to be meaning here—perhaps it was about forcing my way in the world.

It wasn’t until a couple days later that I recalled the full conversation as Brian got out his checkbook to purchase the tickets.  He suggested we buy more than two, but I’d said no, he didn’t need to give any more money to this organization.  He bought two tickets and sure enough, the next number won.  My husband has a different relationship with money and risk than I, and he’s more generous. Sometimes he doesn’t follow his gut instinct, but this was the first time I was aware that I discounted his intuition.  I asked why he didn't insist on buying more and he shrugged and replied that since it was my event, he would follow my lead.

What trumps our intuition is a question worth pondering always.  What trumps my partner’s intuition is a new question for me. In every moment I have a choice to expand or contract, spiritually.  I can say yes to a risk, be generous, listen more carefully, grow more patient or I can stick to habitual ways of being critical, ungenerous, self-absorbed, and hurried.  Those pathways have developed over a lifetime to keep me safe, yet unexamined, they block me from experiencing the synchronicities that make a day feel special and grace-filled.

One benefit of living with someone for years is learning to trust his expansiveness when I’m rigid and to support his intuitive hunches when I’m uninspired.  Although we didn’t win the raffle prize, if I learn to listen a bit better and say yes a little more frequently, I will have won an ease and freedom that’s priceless.