I would like to say that I’ve been using these cold winter weeks of the new year to accomplish a great deal of downsizing. Unfortunately, other activities with greater urgency took precedence. Plus, the basement is really cold this time of year. However, I did read three books on downsizing to see if they could provide me with insights to tackie some of my thornier projects. I will offer you a review of each one of these in case they strike a chord for any of you.
If you recall, a few posts ago, I wrote about the Swedish activity called “Death Cleaning,” which is the act of downsizing far ahead of one’s actual death, to keep others from having to do it. The Swedish term sounded nicer, but I looked forward to receiving the book, The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter by Margareta Magnusson, who describes herself as being between 80 and 100. I had high hopes for it. It arrived on its official publication date, and I read the slim 117 page volume in one sitting.
The first short chapter is devoted to the emotions surrounding one’s death cleaning project, which the author urges us not to be sad about. The remainder of the book is divided into sections of a page or two with headings such as, “A Small Piece of Advice,” “A Very Good Approach, “How to Discuss the Topic of Death Cleaning, “Don’t Forget Yourself,” and “Mapping out Your New Space.” Her general advice is common sensical, but also close to the realities most of us must face. For example, when given things you don’t want from someone else who is trying to downsize, you just say, “No, thank you, I don’t have room for this.” But then she confesses that she has often taken the object, kept it for a while so that the giver can see it, and then donated it. The book ends with three recipes.
Ms. Magnusson’s folksy book with her own charming drawings is an easy read. She frequently refers to her personal history or other’s stories that illustrate her points, and she discusses her thought processes from her several death cleaning experiences (for herself and others). It was as though an old friend was sitting down with me, ready to share both her epiphanies and her confessions, her successes and her challenges, and her observations about people that inform her decisions, all the while holding my hand as she speaks. “Nobody seems to [write] anymore,” she says, and then tells us why the letters she wrote to her mother and that her mother kept, serve now as a family diary. She goes on to talk about how valuable the Internet has been to her and how important it is to keep up with the times. This attitude leads her to throw away that which becomes outdated, like old cassette tapes.
The most important lesson I took away from this book is to savor the feelings, both good and bad, that come when reviewing the bits and pieces from one’s life, to acknowledge the place of these feelings and events in one’s life story, and then to be brave and let go of the artifacts themselves if no one else is going to need or want them.
Overall, I would say I felt comforted by the book rather than informed, but that’s not necessarily bad when facing this daunting task of downsizing. I want to imagine Ms. Magnussen, with all her experience and empathy, watching over me, giving me a friendly pat when I get rid of something, nodding knowingly when I cry over a letter or a photo, and telling me one of her stories, rather than scolding me, when I can’t take that final step.