Gone Gone Gone

I finally did it. Something I’ve wanted to do for years—more years than I care to admit. I threw out that old box of tarnished, tangled, broken, and bent jewelry. Sounds simple, yes—but my decluttering self and my tree-hugging self have been at odds with one another for far too long, resulting in a whole lotta inaction, frustration, and even resentment. Ick!

For a brief moment, as all those itty bitty things settled into the pockets of space in the garbage, I felt guilty. (The planet! The garbage swirl! The earring-less women in the greater Boston area!) Moments later, that feeling morphed into liberation—and I went on a quick, 15-minute throw-away spree. I tossed my old metronome and tuner and oboe reed-making supplies. Bobby pins, safety pins, and all those plastic clips from the dry cleaner? Gone. That old keychain flashlight I carried in college? To the garbage. Even my favorite green fine-point pen that didn’t even have enough ink in it for me to scribble my first name was laid to rest—alongside the watermelon rinds and soiled parchment paper. I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after, too.

None of us are the sum of our possessions. They’re just things. But if the things that fill our homes are supposed to be a reflection of who we are and what we want out of life, then what does all that junk say about us?

Not every old item of mine is meant to have a second life. Sometimes, one person’s trash is just another person’s trash, too. I’m done with the guilt of holding on to decrepit and defunct stuff with the thought that somewhere there’s a person who is looking for exactly this crummy old thing. It’s just gotta go—even if it’s going to wind up in a landfill. Chalk it up to another life lesson about wants vs. needs. That less really is more. I repeat—for my benefit, and maybe yours, too:

Less is more.

The nicer, more meaningful things that I no longer have a need for—like my beloved cat’s old belongings or the butterfly candle holder my partner bought for me early on in our courtship? Now, that’s where good karma housekeeping comes into play.

"Clutter blocks success."     

                                                                       --Christine Kane                     

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more--even when it comes to jewelry. (Photo by frerieke via Creative Commons.)

Donating Shoes: Soled On the Idea

Inky keeps a nonchalant watch over our Soles 4 Souls donations. I've never been one to splurge on shoes, nor do I have a vast collection. However, I've been hanging on to quite a few pairs that I no longer wear. Some are a bit out of style, while others are in need of a little repair; functionally though, they are all in okay shape.

Over the years, I have donated quite a bit of clothing to Big Brothers/Big Sisters and the Vietnam Veterans Association, but for whatever reason I've never really thought to donate my old, worn shoes. A few months back, however, I came across a photo spread in National Geographic's  Green Guide that completely changed my mind. (Check it out here: What Happens to Donated Shoes.)

Soles 4 Souls, the program featured here, collects new and used shoes for both children and adults whose lives have been impacted by tragedy or hardship. Inspired by the sight on television of a single shoe washed ashore following the 2004 tsunami that hit Southeast Asia, its founder Wayne Elsey, has overseen the donation of more than 3.4 million pairs of shoes to date. He estimates that, throughout America, there are 1.5 billion pairs of unworn shoes in our closets. Billion. I can easily account for a dozen or so pairs.

I rooted around in our hallway closet and dusted off the shoes you see above, bundled each pair together and dropped them off at a nearby collection site. Easy as that. Find a collection site near you. 

"Buy better, buy less."                                                                                                                  -- John Fluevog

I've always preferred quality to quantity. Give me a handful of cashmere sweaters over a cedar chest full of pilly blends. A couple of classic handbags over an array of knock-offs. A few pieces of real jewelry over a mound of the costume stuff. But on many occasions I've cheaped out on shoes (a) because I'm pretty hard on them and (b) because they're waaay down there and I don't think anybody really notices (or cares) what's on my my feet.

While I'm happy that I was able to fill the Soles 4 Souls box with so many pairs of shoes from my own closet (and there are more to come), I'd much rather embrace the John Fluevog approach and be more selective in my shoe purchases, thinking about the long-term socioeconomic benefit. While the dollar amount may be low, it's the "hidden" expenses (like sweatshops) that don't sit so well with me. I'm sure some of my shoes came from less-than-ideal conditions, but I'm happy to know that they will be put to continued use. And in the future, I'll think twice before buying a new pair of shoes.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.