Day 14

I read the most wonderful book yesterday. It's actually a children's book that was way too wordy for my 18-month-old, but I was so taken by it that when he got up and walked away after three pages I kept reading.

"The Quiltmaker's Gift," by Jeff Brumbeau, exquisitely illustrated by Gail de Marcken, is a simple but profound story. It's about a quiltmaker who lives in the mountains and makes the most extraordinary quilts. In spite of the crowds of people who come to her, pockets full of gold, begging to buy her quilts, she refuses to sell them; instead, she quietly gives them away to poor or homeless people.

There is, of course, a local greedy king (seriously greedy--he loves stuff so much that he orders that his birthday be celebrated twice a year so he can get more presents!). And here's where I felt the karma drawing me to the book:

"And yet with all these marvelous treasures to enjoy, the king never smiled. He was not happy at all. 'Somewhere there must be one beautiful thing that will finally make me happy,' he was often heard to say. 'And I will have it!'"

I can so relate. And I know a lot of my clients can too. It reminds me of something my business coach calls "the myth of arrival," and though she's talking about the misguided belief that you ever actually reach a point where you're done, you've arrived, you are exactly the success you imagined and have no new challenges, interests or desires, I think it also applies to a state of being that you think your possessions can get you to.

I have experienced this a lot with makeup. And clothing. And books, stationery, pens, art supplies, accessories, coaches, classes, advisors, bedding, businesses, projects, scrapbooking paper, baby clothes, baby gear, gifts to give one day, handbags, tote bags, travel bags, serving platters, and cake decorating equipment. That's just off the top of my head.

Now, I still live a fully-functional life; have a decent, though somewhat crowded, home; run a successful business; and am blessed with loving relationships. But there's clearly something going on, something missing that I've been trying to replace with stuff, some hunger I feed with the next best thing and this belief that keeps me searching for THE thing that will be the answer.

In the book, the king demands that the quiltmaker give him a quilt; she refuses. He insists that it's the one thing that will make him happy. She thinks for a moment and then replies:

"'Make presents of everything you own,...and then I'll make a quilt for you. With each gift that you give, I'll sew in another piece. When at last all your things are gone, your quilt will be finished."

Needless to say, the king's not crazy about this idea. In fact, he chains her to a rock in a cave with a bear and leaves her with the words, "I'm sure he will make a very fine breakfast of you." (He doesn't; the bear and the quiltmaker become quite friendly.)

The point is, over the course of the story the king learns that the true value of his things is the joy they bring to other people. He starts small--the only thing he can bear to give away at first is a marble--but he sticks with it, and eventually the power of giving becomes such a integral part of him that he cannot live any other way. And of course the thing he was searching for all this time was that connection to other people, the ability to live outside of himself and beyond his own desires, to be genuinely concerned for others. When he released his hold on his stuff, he was welcomed into a world that valued him and not his trappings.

I've been thinking a lot about this. I am in the process of separating my conception of my value from my stuff, my "accomplishments," my "success." This is so central to my being whole that I feel like I have to do this before I can do anything else. I think that giving things away is a part of it, and not accumulating more than I need is another part, but caring for those things I do love and use--and, by extension, caring for myself--is a third, vital part.

Taking those few moments every day to put some clothes away and make my room feel better means I'm taking time for myself. And that means I'm as important as everything and everybody else on my list. And when this becomes a comfortable habit for me, I will focus on the next new habit that creates joy, and the next one, and as I do this I will be freeing up time and energy for the things that are truly important. And each day I get to live my own life a little bit more. And every time I discover more of who I am, I get to put that part out into the world and see where it can make a difference.