Moving from a 3500 sq ft house to a 33 ft sailboat has been an adventure in downsizing. Its gotten me thinking ... rambling really ... rambling mentally while drinking rum in the cockpit (thus the name) ... about possessions and our relationship to our stuff, what enables us, what defines us, what confines us and what we keep without questioning.
My mom's family escaped Russia when the communists took over in 1917, with just what they were wearing. Mom was fascinated with antiques - since she could have no heirlooms, she sought possessions that had a past, any past, even if it wasn't hers. Dad was brilliant and could always visualize a use for the most random broken or puzzling things, so his parts of the house were more like a storage area than a living area.
Then when mom was diagnosed with cancer, she moved to a tiny apartment not too far from the hospital, streamlined. Everything was white or clear crystal & lace. No clutter, just a few beautiful and elegant things. She said, "I spent 40 years acquiring things, and now I'm trying to get rid of them." I expressed admiration, envy, for her new streamlined lifestyle and she said, you'll get there. It probably won't even take you as long as it took me. That was before the sailboat ....
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