Simplicity
Dru Pagliassotti
Simplicity changed my life.
I was introduced to the concept through those little novelty books by Elaine St. James. Nothing deep--just a set of guidelines for paring down. But the idea struck a chord. I scoured the library and the bookstores for more.
I've always considered my possessions my home. I'm a military brat. House, state, country, school, friends-- they changed, year after year. But stuff doesn't change. Stuff is stable; stuff is home.
Yet stuff hadn't protected me from divorce. And while trying to figure out what had gone wrong, I discovered simplicity.
Simplicity taught me how to cope.
Get rid of the clutter. I looked around the apartment. Over our years together we'd accumulated dozens of appliances we never used. He left them behind when he moved away.
I filled heavy-duty trash bags with stuff: electric wok, rice cooker, ragged towels, coffee maker, coffee grinder, clothes that didn't fit, jewelry I never wore. I hauled the bags to the thrift store and I left without a receipt. When I walked back into my apartment, I felt suddenly, gloriously free.
Get rid of the books you haven't read in years. I hardened my heart and purged my shelves. I hauled hundreds of paperbacks to the library's donation bin and came back and looked at my empty shelves and felt liberated.
Get rid of items bearing negative associations. I went back to my closet and weeded out the clothes that weren't the "real me." I boxed the knick-knacks he'd given me. I decimated my photo collection. More was donated. More was thrown away.
I looked around my apartment and rejoiced. All those material chains, all those things were gone. I felt like I could soar.
It's all about simplifying. The fewer possessions, the fewer cares. The fewer cares, the better life.
I bought white furnishings, white bedspreads, white dishes, and left my white walls bare. The more my rooms resembled a blank slate, the more peaceful I felt.
I shed responsibilities. I gave up my websites, my email, my church attendance, my meetings, my newspapers, my magazines. I gave away my television. I stopped taking Pharmaceuticals; no more aspirin, no more birth control, no more antihistamines.
At last I took all of my vacation days at once. I didn't go anyplace. I simply let my spirit run through empty rooms.
Cooking isn't simple. So I use the "one-bowl method" and consume only natural, uncooked foods. I drink only water. I gave away my dishes and emptied out my pantry.
Hair care isn't simple. Two weeks ago I shaved off all of the hair from my body and head. When it grew back I used a chemical depilitator and threw away my razors and hairbrushes.
Nail care isn't simple. A strong acid solvent took them off. My fingers and toes are smoothly beautiful as they rest against hairless flesh. Nail clippers, files, and fingernail polish went into the trash.
Tooth care isn't simple. But tooth decay isn't either. Pulling each one out was painful but liberating. I must use a straw now until the wounds heal, but an all-liquid diet has simplified my bodily functions. No more toothbrushes, toothpaste, or dental floss.
I am so free, so weightless. I own nothing. I have no cares. I sit here, peacefully, in my empty, colorless apartment, and I am.
A trickle of blood, red on the white sheets. My period. With no calendars, no pills, I had forgotten.
I run my hand over the smooth flesh of my lower belly. The dull ache begins. Another complication, another rattling chain binding me to the material.
An acid douche will ensure that this shedding uterus never bothers me again.
Everything is so simple.
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