Is it tough? Then do it twice.

Originally written November 2015

I moved on Friday. The cast of characters included me, the man with the van (Felix) and Brett (because he's amazing). It took the three of us two hours, including travel time, to take my whole life from one borough to another. One of the brilliant side effects of so much upheaval this year has been the absolute clarity with which I view what's important and what's not. And things that fit firmly in the "not" category include most of my actual things. I am so clear that I am not my possessions. I'm down to 50 hangers, five books and one box of photos. It used to be that I would roll my eyes at people who claimed such relief, psychological or otherwise at deleting so much of their worldly goods. And yet. I now worship at the alter of KonMari and do not hesitate to take a pair of pants off my body and put them directly in the trash if I've decided that day was their last day out. Surprisingly the most "relief" came from tossing out boxes and boxes of old photos (and the negatives too) and all of my books. Dragging around relics from my past apparently cost more than I thought.

And as I moved my things to my new (lovely! amazing!) spot, I thought about a lesson I learned way back when I was just getting the hang of getting tossed in the air and flipping around --another cheer-life-lesson if you will. I remember how hard it was to GET a single back flip. Understanding your "air awareness" is a bit like balance, in that you must experience it rather than hear about it. There's something Sarte called "le passe sous silence" in reference to the second dimension of the body, wherein you pass beyond silence -- forgetting your plans, and come into just being. It's that glorious state of flow, of being aware of your body, but not tied so tightly to it.

And although I performed the single back flip in the air well, it wasn't until I was asked to do a double before I REALLY got how to do the single. All of the sudden one was ease. One was grace. One was the easiest thing I'd ever done. And that lesson has stuck with me. Once I have proficiency in something, if I turn up the dial it usually works. Like, if one mile is hard to run, run two. If one pie crust is tricky, roll out six. And back to my move last week as I was marveling a bit at how it easy it was this go round, I remembered that I've moved four times this year.

If it's tough, do it twice (or four times?)
Or maybe just throw out all your books.