More Than an Address

I have an address!! Almost a year after I became address-less (homeless?), I have an address. I can again have packages sent directly to my address instead of to someone else’s address. Shouldn’t I feel settled? Complete? At peace? I don’t.

As I contemplated this, I realized an address consists of numbers and street/road names representing my location, not my home. Over the last three years, my home reallocated numerous times. As John and I traveled from the source of the Wabash River to the Gulf of Mexico, our home changed almost daily. The possessions we needed to exist traveled with us. Even though I didn’t possess an address and my home was mobile, we had everything we needed, and needed everything we had. I was settled, complete, and at peace.

During this past year, we stored our possessions in three different locations (one with no address). We made our home in Wabash, Indiana (our address-less home), existing on the bare essentials and missing only a few of our belongings stored at other locations. I was settled, complete, and at peace.

So, I thought about what I need to feel settled, complete, and at peace. I inspected my incomplete 750 square foot home. My few belongings are scattered within the perimeter of my home with an address. (This is the first time in over a year everything I own is located under one roof.) The key is not in the words few, home, or address, for I lived with a few possessions on the river for three and a half months and was complete. In fact, I considered more than a hundred locations home over the past three and a half years and had a sense peace. I associated myself both with an address and without an address while feeling settled. So what is the key?

I concluded that the key is found in the word organized. No matter where I am, as long everything has a place and is in its place, I exist in a state of at-ease. I know I’m not unique in this feeling, but I hadn’t sat down and pondered it until now. I take the yearning for organization for granted. I take a sense of settlement for granted. I take feeling complete for granted. I take peace for granted. I needed to remind myself that feeling settled, complete, and at peace doesn’t just happen—I must put forth effort to achieve it. Achieving organization takes effort.

As I scan the room, I moan at the effort required to attain organization. All my possessions must find a place to live in my new home. However, I own more items than my 750 square feet will accommodate. As I survey the chaos of boxes, I wonder where I will uncover a place to store the articles hidden inside, bringing a few tears of frustration. Then I realize I need to re-invent my thinking. I can’t adjust my limited storage options, but I can adjust the number of things I need to store. Instead of looking at where I can store everything, I need to take inventory of my storage options and adjust my belongings accordingly. I need to remember the lesson I learned when we prepared for our kayak adventure. The size of the kayaks and their holds remained static—they would accommodate only so much. I started with a list of items I thought critical to my survival, but soon realized it was impossible to fit all of them into our kayaks. I couldn’t change the kayak layout; I pruned my list. Eliminating items I considered necessities overwhelmed me at first, but I soon recognized what I really needed to survive. John created a map to organize the remaining fundamentals in our kayaks. Even though I had to pare down my possessions, once everything had a place, I let out a sigh of relief.

I need to apply this trimming process to the daunting task ahead of me by fitting my belongings to my home instead of my home to my belongings. I know that only then will I locate a home for and organize my necessities. Only then will I feel settled, complete, and at peace. This wisdom is easy to write about but not so easy to put into practice. Why, as I unpack the boxes of bowls, kitchen gadgets, clothes, etc., which I haven’t remembered existed over the past year, do I still want to create a place to store them? Why do I think I need five different colors of plastic bowls? Why do I think two people need ten towels? Why do I think I need twenty t-shirts? Why do I think I need…? We lived with two bowls, two spoons, and two cups for three and a half months. My wardrobe consisted of three shirts, three skorts, one pair of pants, two bras, three pair of socks, and three pair of underwear. I was always fed and clothed.

Will this trimming process be worth the effort? Will I find a home at this address? Ask me when I tear down the last cardboard storage box how well I fit my belongings to my home, how may tears I cried, and how it feels to be settled, complete, and at peace.