Handscrafts versus Junk

During my years of not-working in Tucson, I took lots of arts 'n' crafts classes. I got into them as a vehicle to give my Virtual Stepdaughter (EEFFH's then 13-14-15-16YO daughter) something at which she could excel. She had been schooled in Sweden through 6th grade, and came to the U.S. doing math at a 2nd grade level. Additionally, she was verbally fluent in English, but could neither read nor write knowledgeably. (The Swedish educational system practices socialism by not testing or grading children until they reach the 9th grade. By then, if they have a problem, it's not easy to repair. The stepdaughter will graduate from college in London in a week or two, and she still cannot spell or write in English.)

She enjoyed all the classes we took, but her real motivation in life was watching television, much like her father. I, on the other hand, loved every class I took. Stained glass, mosaics, warm glass (fusing and slumping), lampwork bead-making, pottery (hand-building and wheel), fabric painting and dyeing, quilting, beading—all brought me great joy. The more classes I took, the more I realized how much I loved learning. It wasn't important to me to master any particular art form—the joy came from learning how to create all the beautiful things I saw at arts and crafts shows.

A result of my education was the refinement of my tastes. Where in the past I had admired most everything I saw at arts and crafts shows, my newfound knowledge made me admire only those things that I couldn't create because they were too advanced or too elaborate. I became much more discerning.

Many of the close friends I made in Tucson were women whom I met in classes, particularly pottery classes. I loved molding the clay, seeing the bisque come out of the first firing, experimenting with glazes, and sharing life stories over every pinch of clay. Each finished piece made me feel proud of my accomplishment.

Now six years have passed, pots and bowls have come out of storage, and all my work is lined up on the mantle in my new sun room. And I look at each item and wonder why I thought it was wonderful. I noticed a lidded bowl I made for Tyler that he had on the bar in his office—I told him it was crap and he should throw it away. The last time I was in his office, it was gone. I presume he felt relieved.

I think part of reducing the clutter in one's home is to decide what's really important to you, which of the possessions you've amassed through your life bring you joy, and which are just there, collecting dust, waiting for you to die so someone can give them to Goodwill. I realized, in the past two days, that it's time to hold and caress each piece, deciding which ones I really love, and which need to go to Goodwill and bring joy to someone else.

In my opinion, education is more about expanding one's brain, about the learning process, than it is about finishing yet another lopsided bowl. Decluttering your home is about being surrounded only by those possessions that truly bring you joy.