Life Essentials

About two and a half years ago, pre-COVID (and will we always think of our lives now as pre-COVID and post-COVID?), I wrote an essay for my writing group on things I considered essential to my life. 

The essay was triggered by an opening line I’d read in a book: "Make a list of every possession you consider essential to your life". It was one of those psychological thrillers along the lines of Gone Girl and Girl on the Train. The request was from a questionnaire given to applicants wanting to rent a unique house built by an eccentric architect.

I pulled out the essay recently, wondering if my list would have changed in the past couple of years. And if it hadn’t changed, what would that say about me? That I have not grown, stretched myself? Or, that I am pretty grounded in my life and what is important to me? I found out that the list hasn’t really altered, except for one important addition.

Now of course, the list does not include people. It’s a given that your loved ones are essential to your life and shouldn’t be relegated to lists. I interpreted a list of life essentials to mean: Apart from the basic necessities, what are the things that define you and your life? Not just the things that you hold dear and close because of their sentimental value. But the things that give you joy, speak to you, make you who you are, give shape and structure to your everyday life.

In making the list, I had pondered clothes and furniture, but I wasn’t attached to anything in particular in my closets except for my beloved hiking boots. I possessed no antique dresser or heirloom chest that was a hand-me-down from generations. I came from a family of immigrants – everything could be left behind.

So, with some condensing, here’s what I wrote in that essay, which stills hold true today (and that one addition):

• Books and Libraries: Having well-loved books around me is both comforting and pleasurable; picking one up, rifling through the pages. I rarely read a book twice, but I still cannot part with those that I’ve loved.  When downsizing from my townhouse to my condo, I went through my bookshelves and culled dozens of books. It had been painful but necessary. I kept only those that had made a deep impression on me and enough to fill two bookcases. Now I frequent the library to keep those same two bookshelves in check, although there is evidence of spill over and some higgedly-piggedly stacking upon stacking.

• Journals and Fat Pens:  I like notebooks with good quality paper, ringed, so they can be folded back (I used to write on the train during my morning commute). None of that cheap, dollar-store, thin paper. Although I have bought those too and immediately regretted it.  And I love big, fat pens, good for arthritic fingers.  At events and seminars (pre-COVID), there were often freebie pens, and whenever I saw some chubby ones, I would scoop up a couple and drop them into my purse. I always felt guilty taking more than one, but took them anyway. After all, they were free and intended for publicity. They wanted you to take them. I recently discovered another blogger who also likes chubby pens.

• Photographs and mementoes: I have lots of pictures - of my daughter, parents, siblings, nieces. I only keep a few on display, the rest are stored in boxes in my locker. But I also have mementoes - my daughter’s christening dress, her first shoes, her growth chart, a few books that she and I enjoyed together when she was young. These are also packed away, except for a little clothes-pin rocking chair that she made for me (maybe in grade 1) and that still sits on my nightstand. But all this packed-away stuff led me to think that memories were more valuable than mementoes. I could carry memories with me wherever I went, so were these items really essential?  And yet, what these pieces hold have made me who I am. Knowing I have them gives me joy. They are not just sentimental pieces tucked away in boxes. They are my history.
  
  
  

• Coffee and mug:  Coffee is vital to my every morning as a kick-start to both mind and body and a precious companion to journal and pen.

• Wine:  Full-bodied smooth reds for the fall and winter; crisp, rich whites for the summer. Perfect on many an evening, sitting out on the balcony, good book in hand. 

• Snacks - Olives, nuts, popcorn, cheese.  This is not in the category of food to sustain life but snacks that I would not want to live without. There is nothing more heavenly than curled up with a good book, a big bowl of popcorn and a (biggish) glass of wine.

• Places to travel to. Wanderlust strikes often. But that was pre-Covid. Now I must content myself with travel blogs, House Hunters International on TV, dreaming and planning. It will happen again.

• Laptop and I-Phone. Some might argue the ‘essential-ness’ of these things, but for me, when hands tire from afore-mentioned big fat pens, a keyboard is easier. And also to explore travel options, research destinations, read blogs and connect with family and friends. And in recent months, the phone has become part of my daily dose of online scrabble and WORDLE.

• Walking shoes, hiking boots and nature trails:  Like writing in my journal, solitary walking expands and deepens my thinking. And even though I haven’t hiked in a while (I’ve walked a lot, but hiking means elevation, going up into hills and mountains, down into canyons), the hiking boots must remain on this list. It will happen again.

• Tennis racquet and all that goes with it, including of course watching hours of it on television. If you know me, you know I’m a Federer fan forever.

• Art Supplies: This is the recent addition of the past year. Now that I’ve discovered painting, I cannot imagine not having paints, canvases and brushes within reach, no matter how mediocre the ‘masterpieces’ I produce. 
  
  
  

And if you’re wondering, the correct answer that the eccentric architect wanted from anyone looking to rent his unique house, was a blank page.