Simplicity

On board Chrysalis I store all of my clothes in a locker in our master stateroom. Including the drawers, it is roughly 6 ft high and 3 ft wide. Along with a few other shelves and small cupboards, this is the sum of my storage space. The whole thing is fairly jammed full and whenever I open the door a shoe or two falls out and I have to cram it back in. Finding things that match are pretty much out of the question because I would have to mount an expedition the likes of which would put Shackleton’s polar one to shame. People would go in and never return.  It is what it is.

I wish I could show you a picture of my gorgeous walk in closet back at our old house. I could have put a small couch and fridge in there and been all set. There were rows of orderly clothes hanging from shelves placed at just the right height and all manner of deep drawers perfect for bulky sweaters and jeans. Ah the organized bliss of it all. But here’s the thing about that: it was packed full too. Maybe it is just me.  Maybe it is human nature. Although I panicked a few years ago when I was forced to give almost everything away that had been my larger, land-based, closet, nowadays the stuff wedged into my much smaller by comparison locker aboard Chrysalis is more than enough.

And the galley I have now is far more compact than the kitchen I had back on land. I have no special ice-cream sundae bowls or mugs just for soup or countertop chicken rotisseries. I don’t even have a waffle maker. There is no room for extra stuff. This pained me, as you can imagine, while we traveled through the Mediterranean. I saw all sorts of things I wanted to buy, but there just wasn’t room in any of my cupboards or drawers, which made me, out of necessity, very choosy about the things I did purchase. It was likely good for me. After awhile I got used to the fact that I couldn’t buy much and the desire ceased to hound me. I simply didn’t feel the need to buy all sorts of junk that would have eventually ended up at some garage sale anyway.

I wanted to live on a boat because I believed it would provide the opportunity to live a little more simply and so it has. Certainly living on a boat isn’t the sole precursor for such a practice, but for me, it was the kick in the pants I needed.  I am realizing that while simplicity has somewhat to do with your material possessions and being responsible for how you spend your time, it has far more to do with the attitude of the heart. There’s a releasing involved. A sense that we are more than the sum of our goods and our to-do lists. That outward possessions (even live-aboard boats) don’t define us. And this open-handed journeying through life is all at once incredibly freeing. A waft of contentedness has settled in for the season and shows no sign of budging.