There is nothing like a string of assignments and end of semester exams to rush you through 25 days. I’m just beginning to gather my thoughts again after all the madness.
I’m still waiting on enrollment confirmation from BOKU – This is a final formality, and then I can finalise my accommodation and visa application. The days left in Hobart are few and the amount of stuff to do seems to be rapidly increasing.
I’ve had the chance to make some good decisions, though. In the spirit of collaborative consumption, I’ve been cleansing and culling the amount of ‘stuff’ I have. In Botsam and Roger’s book What’s Mine is Yours, the role of ‘stuff’ is considered in depth. The reality is, I seem to have an awful lot of it. From shoes to books, it is time for a big cull. What value do they bring to me? How often do I use them? Can I part with them without guilt of sentimental memories? Largely, the answer is yes.
I was discussing change and the upcoming journey with a friend, who described it as the start of ‘watershed years ahead’. I found this particularly poignant, with reference to years.
Once I get back to Australia, I should be able to finish my degree with a mere three further units – a single semester, all things going to plan. And then, there is a whole new raft of opportunities pending… honours, masters, employment. All of these options are scattered in various locations, so it seems logical to start stripping back to the essentials now.
This sits well with me on many levels. The lesser known reference from ‘fight club’ is ‘the things you own end up owning you’. And it is very true. I need to reduce my stuff ecologically to reduce my footprint, and to increase my mobility. Of course I won’t part with the cumbersome but important pieces – Nan’s blackwood organ will be lugged around by four to six removalists many times for the rest of my life, it seems!, but there is a lot of stuff I’ve been enjoying finding good homes for. There’s always been a minimalist in me busting to break free and enjoy industrial design, but I ended up comfortable and surrounded by frilly Victorian antiques. Such is life…
This is now also my approach to travelling next year. The decision to take a rucksack and not a suitcase was a surprisingly long internal dialogue, but truth be told I’m excited at the thought of throwing a few pairs of jeans, a pair of boots, a big warm jacket and some T shirts into a pack and heading off.
With no illusions that the remaining 60 days will be chaotic, stressful, emotional and exhilarating, I’ve just got to keep moving forwards…