Conscious Living: Travel Light

This post is written by contributing author Anabel Bouza. 

Curating the things with which we surround ourselves is key to an artful way of life. The job is never easy, since things have a way of becoming ours and seizing our perfectly vacant space.

Illustration by Anabel Bouza

Personally, I have a love of sparsely decorated spaces, those that reserve room to breathe and invite the mind to rest. I also have a very real fear of becoming engulfed in material possessions, weighted down and unable to detach myself from them.

Enter Moving Day! 

For all the uprooting and the stress associated with it, moving is the perfect opportunity for new beginnings and reevaluation. It gives you an excuse to get rid of anything that failed to find its way in to your day-to-day, that didn't improve your life, or isn't emotionally charged.

You probably fear that you'll find a use for it the second it change hands, or as soon as you drop it in the donation bin - a dread of my own! That may be the case, but in your heart of hearts you already know how relevant this particular item is to you. 

I try to answer these questions with fierce honesty:

• Wouldn't it be nice to feel that much lighter? 
• Is it time to give someone else the opportunity to bring into their lives this which never quite fit into mine? 
• Have I outgrown its emotional significance? 
• In the case of antiques; am I able to properly care for it?

Let's be honest, it's likely that some other alluring object is waiting to occupy this newly vacated spot, but for now, you've given yourself the opportunity to breathe a little easier, to exercise the curator's steady hand, and have moved on toward a more suiting piece - or something just as precious: sheer, promising space. 

Anabel Bouza insists there's powerful magic in the action of creating something out of a vague vision, a chill of inspiration. She is an illustrator with a passion for nature, paper manipulation, and pointing her camera at things.

Her appreciation for simplicity dates back to a former life in Cuba - her strange homeland - where she refined the ability to see the alternative uses of common objects, and the enchanting side of things. She's often found blogging as Weird Amiga, hard at work in her sunny studio, or staring at things as if looking at them for the first time. Her tiny family is comprised of her husband & a turtle; they're new to the city of Chicago, and they love it. Connect to Anabel via facebook and twitter.