Five Ways to Maintain Minimalism (When the Rest of the Family Isn't)

My family is not like me. I’m a full-blown minimalist in all areas, and they’d rather wallow in their belongings like pigs in a pen. Rude? Perhaps. Maybe equating them to swine isn’t the kindest. Although, I do love bacon.

But having been where they are, this might be the best way to describe it. Their stuff makes them happy, and they’re content to be surrounded by the excess of them. In essence, they don’t own their things… their things own them. 

I’m still working on this concept too. It’s hard to see how much our stuff controls us. I know this (and can say this in love) because I was exactly like them a few years ago.

I give them a lot of empathy in this area because it takes time to see the truth of our habits, particularly one that doesn’t seem like a habit but something that is a part of us all. Aren’t we supposed to need things? Don’t we use all that we have? Don’t we need more to exist and have a perfectly normal life?

I used to think this. But these days, my mind has shifted to a “less is more” mentality in most areas of my life. From what I wear, what’s in my house (my part of it anyway), and what I bring in, minimalist aspects are within them all. I even have a large collection of collectible kitchenware and still call myself a minimalist.

So, how does a minimalist like me live with - and enjoy - living with non-minimalists? Is this even possible? I can tell you it is. And it starts by having control over the areas within which I can maintain my minimalism.

Here are five ways to maintain minimalism in your life even if the rest of your family isn’t on board with it… yet.

Your closet - This is probably the biggest for most minimal-loving folks and the easiest to adapt to, even if your significant other isn’t interested. My husband and I share a walk-in closet: he has half and I have half – split right down the middle. The goal of minimalism for me is to work on what’s mine. And one of the few things in our house that we don’t share is my clothing. For the last couple of years, I have pared down my closet to the right amount of core pieces that go with everything. My husband has twice as much clothing as me, but that’s okay. My side is tidy and organized, and everything hanging up or on a shelf is something I wear or have worn this past year. I have an eclectic mix of vintage and modern clothing. This part of our closet is mine and it’s exactly as I like it. 

Your cosmetics (toiletries) - This is another area that only I have access to. A couple of years ago, I decided going more natural (with fewer chemicals) with my toiletries was necessary not just for a simple life but to combat my auto-immune illness. My make-up takes five minutes to put on because I only put on a few and my lotion is singular: one for my face and body. I don’t have excess cosmetics and my shampoo works as my body wash (it’s an organic and chemical-free one so why not use one for both?). It makes getting ready for the day the easiest it's ever been. From shower to finish, getting ready takes no longer than half an hour (including if I need to blow dry my hair). It’s so nice not having to use as many products. Simple, easy, clean!

Your shoes - This is where I need to improve more. I love shoes. I can pare down my closet to as little as I can, but shoes… please don’t ask me about my shoes. Regardless, as someone who has owned upward of fifty pairs (probably more, but I can't think about it now), I’ve downsized my shoes to about 28 - this includes flip-flops and hiking boots. Again, only I am wearing my shoes. And my husband and two sons all own about ten pairs of shoes or less… so this one is all on me! I’m sure there are a few more pairs I can scale down, but as always, it’s a process. Minimalism takes time not only to undertake but mentally accomplish.

Your collections - I have a huge love for vintage kitchenware. I’ve been collecting since I was a teenager, which means I’ve had decades of collecting. But, this takes up lots of room, and most of the pieces I don’t use (even though collections don’t have to be used.) So, to become the minimalist I yearn to be (free of my possessions that weigh me down) I have donated – and sold online – parts of my collections. Bit by bit, I’ve sold what I have had - because it was time. Someone else gets to enjoy them now. I still have a huge vintage Pyrex collection. But, it doesn’t have a grasp on me. I can sell it all tomorrow if I need to. It’s also the only collection I own - it’s something I enjoy using too.

Your grace (love, empathy, and tolerance) -  I step one foot into my sons’ rooms and my head is reeling. They have bookshelves full of books and nicknacks, and their dressers are covered with papers, books, trinkets … things that are important to them. They have so many clothes and don’t wear half of them. Here’s the thing: they know I’m a minimalist, they know how it works and why I do it, but it’s hard for them to adopt this way of living. This is where my grace, love, and empathy come into action. They don’t have to be like me to be loved. I love them anyway. Do I want them to see the (possible) error of their ways? Of course. But, all I can do is be an example. Maybe in time, they will want to adopt minimalism. Meanwhile, I will accept their choice and continue to make my choice.

If your family hasn’t seen the beautiful truth of minimalism yet, it doesn’t mean you have to live in constant friction with them. Make minimal the areas of life you do have control over and let the other areas come to minimalism in their own time. You can also clean out drawers and closets they don’t use, even parts of the kitchen with utensils and tools you’ve let collect dust. 

For a great book on minimalism, please read Joshua Becker's book The More of Less: Finding the Life You Want Under Everything You Own. I read this when it came out years ago and it kickstarted my journey into minimalism. 

Little by little, minimalism can enter all parts of your home. Start with what you can work with - whether it’s your closet or a single drawer all your own - and it will give you a place to retreat to and control when the rest of the family wants nothing to do with it. Understanding that we can live with less – not more– is something we all have to learn in each of our unique ways.

Merry Christmas, everyone. ♥

-HJS

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You Can't Take it with You

I followed a hearse to my favorite thrift store last week.

The irony of that wasn't lost on me. I was headed to a thrift store to buy stuff following a person who now had no need for stuff.

I did have a legitimate reason to thrift though. This is how I find my vintage items to sell in my online vintage clothing store. Vintage clothing is also ecologically responsible, so guilt didn't have me by the heart. Not to mention, I'm a minimalist. Stuff has less of a hold on me now than it ever has.

But... it really got me thinking:

How much more stuff do I have in my home that my kids will have to deal with when I'm gone? 

As a minimalist, there is less in my home than ever before. But I still have drawers and shelves of things I still need to go through. 

There are Christmas decorations from twenty years ago in my attic that I haven't put out in over ten years.

Despite my best effort at being minimal, I still had stuff... stuff still had me.

The hearse, with its dark rich mahogany casket resting softly in the back of the car, wasn't as morbid as it was enlightening. Did that person's family have to go through their things? Are they burdened by it all now? 

Then I thought. That could be me in there. I could be leaving my family with tons of stuff that they don't need. Would they feel compelled to keep it in a nostalgic, momento-type way? I didn't want them to have to do that. Sure, they could keep a few items, but all of it?

The hearse and I turned down the street to the thrift store. It kept on going on to its destination while I turned into the parking lot, noting a line of people waiting to get into the store before it opened. I got out of my car and headed in thinking about the Swedish Death Cleaning concept. 

Don't know what this is? I'd only heard about it a few years ago. It began in Sweden and other Scandinavian countries and is the concept of cleaning out what you have now so you don't burden your family with it later. It's genius.

And it is so anti-American it's astounding.

There is a great book about it (that I have yet to get on my Kindle) called The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. It covers all you'd ever need to know to get one's possessions under control.

So how do we combat our consumption problem? By being content with what we have; choosing to take in less, giving away more, and keeping only what works, serves, and helps us. This is what I try to do:

Hold Some: There are some deeply loved items and possessions to which we have an emotional attachment. It's okay to keep some of those. We should. But, just so you know, it's also okay to throw away yearbooks and old photos that don't mean anything. I know... sounds crazy. It's also alright to throw away journals and keepsakes that aren't really "sakes" but more "keeps." 

Give Away Some: The biggest blessing is giving away items. I can't tell you how marvelous it is to do this. There's such a joy that springs forth that it makes me want to give everything away. There are times when I'm tempted to sell an item or two on eBay. And that's alright. But, the gift of giving feels better than making money any day.

Opt to Bring in Less: This is where I fail regularly. A "less is more" lifestyle means not only decluttering regularly but choosing not to shop online or offline regularly. When I'm out thrifting, it is tempting to buy way more than I need - and not just for my shop. I'm talking about items for the house, the family, clothing, etc. When prices are cheap it's easy to think it's a deal and it should jump into your cart. This is where I have to be intentional. Do I need this? Do I already have something like this at home that works just fine? If I bought this today, would I regret it tonight?

You can't take it with you. 

While we should enjoy life - there will always be fun but responsible purchases to make - we should also be planning for the future. I don't want to burden my family with my stuff. Things that are valuable to me may not be to them. Actually, I know this to be true. They will not want them. I've already asked my kids about some items. They don't want them!

I'm lucky my parents already downsized - they're living a simple, minimal, and very happy life in their condo. But getting there took a lot of work! They pared down and we kids helped them pare down too. It was overwhelming at the time but the best choice they could have made. They did their Swedish Death Cleaning and we are all better for it.

The hearse will be for me one day. I want to live a satisfied life knowing I don't need much to be happy. But I also don't need to bequeath my silly trinkets - and collectibles they don't want - to my family.

I want to save my family more grief and be responsible with my possessions now.

-HJS

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Book Review: The Road Less Traveled

Like Tuesdays with Morrie, the book I read and reviewed a few weeks ago, my latest review is on a book that I read about twenty years ago. It too was more compelling than ever. This book is The Road Less Traveled, by Dr. Scott Peck. Let me start off by saying Dr. Peck's observations (as a psychiatrist and human being) are incredible and there is a reason this book sold millions.

Just like in the book I read before, age, experience, relationships, and heartbreak, change how we view everything. Life is hard (which is how he opens up the book... I don't know of a better opener than that). But, he points out one fact that got me underlining and highlighting scores of paragraphs and it was this - which also sums up the book: we are lazy.

While I balked at this, because I don't consider myself lazy, he began to explain away my scoffing and excuses. He began to prove his point. He says this:

 

"The myth of Adam and Eve can again be used to illustrate this [laziness]. One might say, for instance, that it was not laziness that prevented Adam and Eve from questioning God as to the reasons behind His law but fear --fear in the face of the awesomeness of God, fear of the wrath of God. But while all fear is not laziness, much fear is exactly that. Much of our fear is fear of a change in the status quo, a fear that we might lose what we have if we venture forth from where we are now.... the basis of fear is laziness, it is the fear of the work they [Adam and Eve] would have to do.... " 

This blew me away. Fear is synonymous with laziness. He goes on to say, 

"We have a sick self and a healthy self. No matter how neurotic or even psychotic we may be, even if we seem to be totally fearful and completely rigid, there is still a part of us however small that wants us to grow, that likes change and development, that is attracted to the new and the unknown and that is willing to do the work and take the risks involved in spiritual evolution. And no matter how seemingly healthy and spiritually evolved we are, there is still a part of us, however small, that does not want us to exert ourselves, that clings to the old and familiar, fearful of any change or effort desiring comfort at any coast and absence of pain at any price...."

What really got me believing he was right was looking at my writing background. I wrote a middle-grade book over ten years ago, but I desire to write more... and yet, I haven't been willing to do the background work to get there. I've written words, but haven't had others read them, nor have looked for an editor to look at it, to get an agent to look at it. These things have hindered me. 

I should've started writing for children with younger children's magazines first, writing short stories for them, then moved on to longer stories for older kids, and getting published there too. I should've joined a children's writing group and reached out to local writing groups... all sorts of things. But, I was lazy. I wanted to bypass all of that because- why? Because these things are hard and they are fear-based ideas (for me). It's rejection, more hard work, more sacrifice, and then even more rejection.

But, life is hard.

I don't get a pass just because things are hard. I'm not naturally gifted at writing, I've had to work at it, so I wasn't going to be the next Stephanie Meyers (Twilight Series) who randomly wrote and submitted, got accepted, and sold a bajillion books. That's abnormal. 

So Peck was right. Laziness is the issue. It's up to me to change this. And I've begun. I've joined SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) and I'm going to try to get connected to more writers. I've begun to write more - not books but articles and also children's short stories and poetry. Things I can get published through magazines that can help me acquire the skills to write better, and hopefully, more books. Study the craft, read more books, take seminars, and listen to what others have done.

Fear leads to laziness but once we see it and try to change that part of us, I think we've begun to live the life God intends. In all areas, though. Not just our work, but our relationships. I've been lazy in areas of my marriage, in raising my kids, and in my friendships. All of these valuable things stay valuable and real if I remain active. Reaching out to friends when I don't want to; addressing my children's needs when I feel I've already done enough for them; and being the wife my husband needs, not the one I think he needs. All of that. As Peck says, "An essential part of discipline is the development of an awareness of our responsibility and power of choice."

It's up to me to choose to not be lazy. Everyday.

Read the book. The Road Less Traveled is essentially a self-help book with a HUGE dose of honesty that serves to help and protect all of us if we listen to and heed Dr. Peck's honest and brilliant advice.

Five stars.

-HJS

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Book Review: Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuesdays with Morrie

 About fifteen years ago, I read the book Tuesdays with Morrie. 

Fifteen years ago I was a different person. In my early thirties, raising two young sons, and getting a grasp on the writing career I still wanted despite my schedule being more about my boys, I thought this book was interesting.

Just that. Interesting.

It sounds banal and annoying to say I thought it was interesting. But, it was. While it struck a chord within me (a soft one) that the story was sentimental, heart-warming, and heartbreaking, there is something to be said about life experiences that change a person. I guess I was banal and annoying back then. The book didn't mean much.

But life experiences change a person.

I suppose we are all naive in our early years. Which really means we're all insensitive. I take umbrage at that description for myself but after reading the book again, that's the only way to put it. 

Now that I've gone through fifteen more years of more pain and joy, heartbreak and happiness, this story was more than interesting. This book was almost, dare I say it, the meaning of life.

It sounds sacrilegious to say because, for me, the Bible is my main "meaning of life" book. But, what the author did with his story - about the relationship he had with his professor going through university and then reconnecting later on with him when they were older - was reveal the secret wisdom his professor had figured out. What was that wisdom? 

He figured out how to live an authentically real and happy life.

Life isn't about stuff, it's about people. It isn't about working harder, working faster, owning more, and upgrading everything we own (or presume to own.)

Life, according to him, with every good and bad thing he'd been through, is about three things (and I'm seriously paraphrasing here): loving others, helping others, and doing something that gives meaning to the world. i.e. making a difference.

As a sociology professor, with a Jewish background who took from many religions to understand his position in life (Christianity, Buddism, and Judaism), he took on his challenge - to love, to help, and to make a difference - and tried to uphold this noble way of living with each person he came in contact with.

Was this man perfect? No. Aren't there other people who do amazing things and are never written about? Yes. This professor just happened to have a student who became a writer. The book was born out of a way to love, to help others, and to make a difference. The author, Mitch Albom, with his book, became the living words of his professor.

That's pretty fantastic.

This book is old, it's been reviewed a gazillion times. There are other good books out there like this. I'm sure of it. But, seeing that I reread it and that initial chord that struck me the first time (soft) turned into one that hammered me in my heart (loud), I have to recommend it. 

It's about life, living, death, disease, paying attention to the important things, and ignoring the time-wasting events of our day. It's about being authentic and moving toward being happy with what we already have.

I suppose the book has elements of minimalism. Maybe that's why I love it more than I used to. I'm also getting older. I also know I could die today, just because I'm older - this isn't something I was pondering fifteen years ago. 

This professor and his words live on in this book decades after it was written. And I can't stop thinking about it. Find it on Amazon or get it on Libby (library reading app) for free. It's not long, about 200 pages, reads quickly, and leaves you with a new way of looking at life if you really let the story speak to you. This is the key: let it sink in and speak.

Five stars. 

-HJS

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Minimal Living and Slow Fashion

I suppose I've been a minimalist for years.

Maybe not in all things, but in quite a few areas of my life. My brain works best when there is less around me (i.e. a clean desk to write) and because of that, it's trickled into other areas. I've been a "neat" person since I was born, and that's just how I am. A place for everything and everything in its place.

But, when did it really begin? When did the "less is more" concept take over my life? I think my minimalism mindset kicked in hard when I turned to vintage as a career and a way of life. I've been selling vintage clothing online for over thirteen years. That alone changed the way I viewed clothing and how horribly our entire world manages this "need." We have become a throw-away society, and I'm not just spouting what I've read. This is 100 percent true.

I am in thrift stores at least three days a week sourcing for my shop. About 99.9% of this clothing is probably within five years old. But maybe closer to two. Two! Why do we have so many new clothes in these stores? 

I'll tell you: we want more.

Many of the clothes I maniacally swipe through looking for vintage are the fast-fashion chains of the mall: Zara, Target, Forever 21, etc. This is a fast-fashion approach to living and for some, that's their way of life. That's fine. I see why because I used to be this way. Target was my best friend. What's a shirt here, a bathing suit there? 'Tis nothing.

Well, actually, it is something; it's a whole closet full of things I don't wear. So then I donate some. And start again. Just like the rest of the world. It's a vicious cycle.

An expensive vicious cycle.

But it's mostly us thinking we need more. When really, we can do so much more with less. I heard that 85% of thrifted store clothing never sells and is sent to landfills. This makes my skin crawl. I loathe myself for even thinking I needed tons of new clothes - every year - back in the day. 

But, this is where vintage changed me.

Vintage clothing is made differently. It is quality materials with quality craftsmanship. They are items meant to be worn for a very long time. Years ago, pieces were handed down to family members; denim was repaired over and over again; you wore the same jacket with patches and holes in it because it was "still perfectly good."

So, where are those people anymore? 

I guess for a good chunk of us, this isn't even an ideal to strive for. We aren't attracted to owning less. We want new and we want to flaunt it. For me? All I want is a good pair of jeans and a real wool cardigan. I want real fabrics that are well-made. There are a few manufacturers still in the business of creating quality. But they are rare. And those who like it -- the "buy less buy better" folks - are just as rare.

Except in the vintage/heritage wear community, which is where I fit in. The desire to own less, to own quality is heavy on our souls. We pride ourselves in not having to buy copious amounts of new clothes, and if we do, we buy quality heritage wear (clothing we could pass down) or vintage clothing. 

"So, this is all nice and dandy," I can hear you say. "But, it's not for me."

Okay, that's fine. Minimalism isn't for everyone. But, what really pushed me even more into a minimalist lifestyle was when I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. To "manage" this disease, I had to change my stress load. When I was diagnosed, I was working four different jobs (plus being a wife and mom.) Something had to give.

Actually, a lot had to give to regain my health. And I'm still working on it. That journey is a long one, but to even find the impetus to get going that way - to become healthy again - I had to give up two jobs. This simplified my life tremendously. Subtracting two work emails from my phone was life-giving. Then I cleaned out my closet. I mean really cleaned it out. To where I have empty shelves and only wear what I love and love what I wear. Then I cleared out the photos on my phone's albums. Have you done that lately? It's like a wave of water has washed over me and I'm reborn. I got rid of apps I don't use, and closed down social media I don't want.

I only sell vintage and write freelance now. And I could not be happier. My life is de-stressed.

I'm enamored with my emptier days. There is freedom in an open schedule. I only worry about things that I want to worry about. Things like, "I have a vintage Pyrex collection. Do I still qualify as a minimalist?"

Being a vintage lover with an illness has made me a minimalist because I only hold onto what I love and what is well-made. I'm keeping things in my life that mean something; the true things, the real things. Things like friends and family. Like my senior dog, Sierra, who prefers to nap 20 hours a day. My garden. Yoga classes. Thrifting for vintage Pyrex and drinking hot coffee on the patio in the morning knowing I don't have to rush anywhere or be somewhere at some time. Talking to God.

Deep breathes.

It's about slow living instead of fast living. Slow fashion instead of fast fashion.

I only have to worry about things that really matter. And if that's all it takes to be a minimalist, then I'm in it for life.

-HJS

Fireworks and my Pup

My dog ran to the empty bathtub, hopped in, and looked at me from behind the shower curtain. She wasn’t budging.

This was going to be a very long 4th of July.

I used to love Independence Day. And truthfully, I still do. I’m as patriotic as Uncle Sam; happy to revel in our independence from the British empire. The 4th is a beautiful day to celebrate freedom, love for our country, and all the barbeque we can eat. Not to mention, the fun fireworks.

What I hadn’t understood in the past was how poorly a lot of animals adapt to fireworks, or rather, don’t adapt at all. Growing up, my two dogs didn’t take much issue with fireworks. It wasn’t a problem. The booming sounds didn’t disrupt their calm. So, naturally, it didn’t seem like a “thing” to have anxious dogs on the 4th.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My husband, our sons, and I got our rescue pup over a dozen years ago, and as soon the 4th was upon us, I understood one thing: that whole concept of happy critters on the 4th – like us humans – was a myth.

My previous dogs were unusual. What I now had in front of me – the shaking, terrified, sniffling, cowering, and severely scared sweet dog – was not only more standard but almost a norm for most folks all over the US. 

That’s when the uncontrollable shaking began, and if you’ve never seen an animal go through this, it’s on the horrific side. My dog began shaking and did this for hours. The hop into the bathtub was a safe place for her. And yet, there was nothing to calm her down. The amount of energy she expelled was like running a marathon. 

This year, the fireworks were loud and intense, and they began about four days before the 4th and continued a couple of days afterward. While my dog is older and has been through many seasons of fireworks, she still becomes highly agitated, shaking, and panting for hours. 

After an initial bathtub run, she went to my son’s room and scooted as close to the bed as possible (without getting under it because she doesn’t fit!) which conveniently was next to a fan blowing cool air and minimizing the loud booms. She stayed there for most of the night. Which was a wonderful thing. This may have been the first 4th of July that I got some sleep, too. It would seem, she has adapted just enough to self-soothe herself. 

But, I also think her age, lessening hearing, and memory for the loud sounds are finally doing her some good. In a way, she has acclimated to the sounds, and it has desensitized her. If I had known how badly she would react to fireworks over the next decade I would have done what I could to desensitize her earlier.

During the first two years of my pup’s life, she didn’t know what fireworks were, and her fear of them was equivalent to a toddler’s curiosity; which was no fear at all. We thought everything was great until, about her third year, after a particularly loud New Year’s Eve Fireworks episode.

That was the end of my naivete.

I’ve read that dogs have hearing four times better than humans and a cat’s hearing, is better than that. So with fireworks, we have the dual negative of the fireworks noise and its unpredictability. Not to mention the flashing lights and unusual smells. Combined, this is a recipe for disaster. Fireworks cause animals to flee from their safe environments because they are so traumatized by the noise; running to a “safer” place, which ends up not being not safe at all. And many times, animals become lost. Fireworks also affect wildlife, from birds to coyotes, deer, and everything in between.

While there are many tools on the market to help combat fireworks fears, most of them don’t work. I know because I’ve tried. The best I can do is hold, hug, and keep talking to her. I turn on the fans to create a soothing white noise, we close the windows, and when we go to bed, if she’s still shaking, all we can do is hope for the best. In the past she would roam from room to room, panting, shaking, and cowering for hours.

Now, she has learned to dig into the panic by finding a safe spot to lie down. 

Most nights, my dog sleeps in her bed just outside my bedroom. But two days of the year, New Year’s Eve and the 4th of July are exceptions: my door is open, and I allow her to come in our room and lie down right next to me if she wants to. I would do nearly anything to make her feel better.

On the 4th of July and New Year's Eve, my dog and I are a miserable mess together.

Here's a little advice for pet owners on the 4th: Do what you can to distract and minimize their trauma; keep them inside, turn on fans as white noise, play soothing music, and stay next to them. If they have you nearby, that is one less stress on their little bodies. And if you can desensitize them to the noise early on, when they're puppies, you'll thank yourself later.

While I can’t explain to my dog why we have these crazy things called fireworks, and though I can’t make it go away, I can try to ease her trauma, soothe her anxiety, and hopefully, with every passing year, get her a little more accustomed to the sounds. 

Even if firework joy has lessened in its value and fun for me, I understand the appeal. I just wish it didn’t hurt animals like it does. Since I can't change this, I’ll keep doing what I can for my pup as long as she lets me.

God bless America and God bless our animals.

The Bird

There is a bird who lives in our backyard that has been a nuisance for the last three years.

For starters, I don't even know what this bird is. No clue. I tried to Google it using terms like "bird with annoying screech" and "kicks up dirt and leaves scrounging for bugs and worms." Those searches didn't work. Weird.

From Google, I received names like finches and woodpeckers, shrikes, and larks. If I could take a picture of the bird, I'd post it so you could see this miscreant in action. But, he's too fast for me. So, I'm no help there. Nor is he. This bird has a black head, and white body, with red on its wings. He’s quite beautiful in spite of his annoying personality  

The good news about researching local "Sacramento birds" is that I now know the identifying name of our resident owl. It's a Western Screech Owl. Yes, we have a resident owl. This adorable owl has made a home out of our old cable dish (and accouterments) that we had planned on taking out, just outside our bedroom second-floor window last year. 

Realizing it was a new home for our fellow owl (after my husband nearly fell off his ladder noting two large eyes staring back at him) we left the unsightly cable dish. And it's worth it. Not everyone can say they have a pet owl.

I often wonder why the pet owl doesn't take out the nuisance bird, but maybe they're friends.

As for our annoying unidentified bird, while its squawk isn't great, it's something I can manage. What I can't stand is his way of clawing dirt, leaves, sticks, and outside detritus onto the pathways and patios while he searches for food. 

I realize this is how he's made. It's actually quite the feat: he jumps up and kicks the leaves and dirt out from under him and makes new fresh ground available for him to search for more food. Hop after hop after hop. 

It's genius level, actually. And the more I think about what he does, the more I realize he might just be more than a smidge smarter than me.

However, every time he does this kick-action effect, he leaves a trail of debris in his wake. Just a quick walk around the perimeter of the backyard, and I know he's been at it again. Each time, I clean up his mess by sweeping all of it back where he got it. As long as it's off the patio, and off the walkways, I can work with him.

If he could just kick his debris within the debris, you know. Or maybe even scootch the material back when he's done looking for food -- back to where he got it from. But no. He's only thinking of himself.

For three years, I've swept all of his antics back into the yard off the sidewalks and patio. Three years. That's a lot of time with me doing the same stupid thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Then yesterday it hit me: Why don't I take the debris of leaves, dirt, rocks, and twigs and sweep them up into a pile and discard that pile into my green waste can? That way, the material is gone, and he can't dig it back up again.

Maybe, just maybe, he's actually showing me areas of my yard that could use a little cleaning. Maybe he's actually making it easier for me to clean my gardens. Maybe he was trying to talk to me all this time and I wasn’t listening.

My biggest question is: Why didn't I think of this before? And more importantly: Why did it take me three years to do things my way, the same way, thinking it would solve my problem?

Sometimes, the answer to our problems is right inside of the problem. It's the Occam's Razor effect: where the obvious, simplest answer is the answer. To solve my problem, all I had to do was just use what the bird was giving me as the answer to my problem.

Huh.

So, has it worked? Yes. While the bird still screeches out my window and still prowls around the bushes, bark, dirt, and leaves; while he still kicks up a mess every morning and afternoon, the messes are less frequent and far smaller. 

I find myself liking this little "nuisance" now. He’s kind of my cleaner friend. He's someone telling me, “This side of the yard is a mess” and “Why are you sweeping this stuff back? Put it in the green waste bin already!” 

This little bird has taught me to think inside the box. To work with what's been given to me… no matter had annoying it is.

Lesson learned.

Lessons I Learn From My Dog... Every Day

I learn something from my dog every day.

Every day.

There are usually a few lessons that rotate through my life, lessons I'm still learning, so every time I see one of these "lessons" in action, right in front of me, I realize how far I need to go to grow in my wisdom to be a better person; a dog-wise person.

The biggest lesson my dog has taught me is gratitude. Yep. Gratitude.

My dog is the happiest person I know. 

I realize my dog is not actually a human being, but she is such a part of my family and is so crucial to teaching me things (things that I just don't seem to want to learn), that I've deemed her human. So she is the happiest and smartest person I know. 

Back to gratitude... she exudes this daily. 

Great book. Get it here!

She's thankful to wake up to see me. Every day.

She's thankful when I come home from wherever I am. Every day.

She is thankful for food (most of the time...but especially if beef is involved.) Every day.

She is so thankful to go for walks. Every day.

Am I thankful for all the things I have in my life every day?

Hardly. I whine; I complain; I want more. So not attractive.

And every time I see how happy my dog is -- all from doing the same simple things, every day -- I marvel at her ability to truly grasp gratitude and enjoy the simple (but good) things in life.

Chicken Soup for the Soul just released their latest book yesterday titled, Lessons I Learned from my Dog.

Let me tell you, if you thought you loved dogs before reading this book, you will adore them a thousandfold by the end. They are amazing creatures that God has bestowed upon us to take care of. I mean, seriously incredible.

I happen to have a little story in this book that I'm proud of particularly because it's about, yet again, my dog teaching me gratitude. 

Go check it out. There are 101 phenomenal stories about men and women's best friends doing what they do best... teaching us how to truly live.

-Heather

The Same Old Same Good

It's funny how things go in circles. 

I remember, over three years ago, telling myself I needed to do something else... something else, mind you, other than being a full-time mom, full-time wife, freelance writer, and vintage clothing seller. No -- I needed to do something else so I could feel like I was really doing something.

Really working.

I remember pulling on my boots one day and tying them while in tears thinking, "I have too much time on my hands." I need to do something productive.

Looking back, I know now that these thoughts were insanity. I think I was just out of my mind for a few months and really needed someone to slap me and say, "Lady, you are doing more than enough. You are enough just as you are."

But, I needed to be really working.

Why would I say this? And why would I even think to ask myself this? Wasn't I already working? Wasn't that enough?

So, I added a part-time job to my schedule. 

Then a year later, added another one.

There's this stigma out there for women --who don't work outside of the home-- that in some way, somehow in ways that defy logic (logic that bamboozled me), that we aren't really working if we don't wear heals and head to an office for eight hours.

This concept is glorified in television, it's talked about in books, heck, the working professional concept is the premise of every Hallmark movie. 

And yet, if I really thought through these lightweight Hallmark movies, did not the working girl -- every time -- leave the corporate office job for the one out in the country? Didn't she crave a job that wasn't quite normal? The one she really wanted that didn't involve bosses and pantyhose, but doing things that made her happy?

Really working? As in, I wasn't working before this?

Three years later, I'm rejoicing after finally realizing that what I was doing before was exactly what I wanted to do now -- only more of it.

I'm freelance writing to my heart's content, writing middle-grade fiction -- that may or may not see the light of day -- and selling vintage clothing. All the things that don't seem like work. All the things that I love doing with every fiber of me. 

This was work that I didn't think was work because I got such joy in doing it.

Therein lay the conflict. 

I was working. But I was doing stuff I loved so much that it didn't feel like work. 

It made me feel like I needed to do more.

But, I was wrong. I needed to stay right where I was and do more of what I loved.

Instead, I got two (two!) different new jobs during this three-year time span. While they were wonderful learning experiences, and I can add them to my resume, here was the problem: I lost myself and my love for life in all of it.

I didn't need to do more. I was enough, doing enough, and God was good to give me what I loved to do early on in life (and put it right in my face for a decade) until I decided it wasn't enough.

My bad.

All of these jobs became overwhelming. I acquired an auto-immune disease. Things sort of fell apart -- as did my body -- and I was unhappy. I didn't get to do as much of what I loved to do anymore (freelance writing and selling vintage) because I had two new jobs to do.

Real work.

I finally got rid of both jobs.

I'm free.

Think the grass is greener on the other side? It's not. As the adage says, "Water the grass on your own side."

For me, that meant doing more of what I loved.

This is now my only goal.

I'm watering my own grass, thank you very much, just enough to make my grass grow wild and green, and am thrilled I re-found myself in the last three years.

-Heather