Offing Yourself

By now, I think we're all aware of how melodramatic I can be. What a better way to end the dramatics by offing myself.

No, not that. I'm talking about breaking the attachment to items that are a direct extension of myself. Made by Minimalist Mommi.

Getting rid of store bought, mass produced items? Cake. Handing over goods made by loving hands you know? Torn, but doable. Pushing out the things made by you? Kicking and screaming.

Well, I'm sure we can all agree that crafts and artwork we make aren't always phenomenal. What about those pieces we pour countless hours into fussing over every tiny detail? How could we ever get rid of something that came from our hands and our minds and our hearts? A physical item that represents all of those abstract feelings. The memories elicited. How can one bear to part with a single "thing" that is her?

The answer is painstakingly. I currently have two ceramic pieces sitting atop the bane of my existence bookcases. One represents my tastes of the time and is easily the one piece I made that was all for me without the theme or suggestion of my teacher. My personality poignantly expressed between clay and glaze. Then there's the bowl--my last ceramic piece made. Unlike piece number one, the bowl leaves less to be desired design-wise, but was a testament to my persistence at the wheel. My perfectly shaped and trimmed bowl. I still swoon over the shape. And I can't help but remember the numerous times that clump of Earth was strewn about, smashed, and stretched until the form of my dreams no longer alluded me but was finally at my fingertips.

Two extensions of me--the perfectionist and creator--now cluttered my home. As much as I enjoy reminiscing, I can't help but remember the mantra of "if it's of no use, let it loose." Other than Blankee, these two insignificant, yet highly valued items, leave me befuddled. In a sense, it feels as if I'm killing a part of myself. Offing a feat of near perfection. Offing my relic of dissipating creativity. I know that items don't make a person, but if they were a person?

Clinging to the past is generally no good for anyone. As initially sad as I may be, to Goodwill my former self will go. Killing that past does not mean forgetting it. Perfectionism and creativity can always be kissed back to life (and possibly by a frog). And I repeat and repeat: I am not an item, I am not an item, I am not an item. Depth of creativity can bring meaning to a piece, but at the end of the day, it's still just another thing requiring care. Instead of trying to escape to the past via fired clay, I can put more care into the present me.

Plus it's two less things to dust. Anything to reduce the cleaning regime is worth a few moments of sadness to reap the added happiness of less housework.

What about you? Have you ever made something and given it up? Are you as torn as I have been? Let's share!

You can always comment here, Google+, Twitter, or FaceBook. Reading about your experiences, thoughts, and opinions are why I stick around.

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