no 28

Have you accidentally looked into the sun or bright light and then looked away, and the image burned into your eyelids? That’s an afterimage.

Last week, I wrote about mortality, life, and how to live. Thanks so much to the friends and readers who've shared your thoughts with me over the last couple of issues. Hearing from you helps me to continue sharing with you and keeps me motivated.

Here's what I saw, heard, or sensed that’s stayed with me in the past week. Let’s begin.

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What’s With Me Now: Life in Two Suitcases

As an art student in my twenties in a city called Providence, I was an ardent admirer of Achim. He was a good friend, a grad student from Stuttgart, who taught smart and elegant undergraduate courses in the graphic design department. We were collaborators on his films. As a dancer, I offered movement to be captured on footage: a rib cage moving or a hand gesture. His work was clean, came from a familiar future, and had a slight hint of severity- in a good way.

While I admired his accomplishments and work, what I admired about him most was his forward-moving energy and ability to be anywhere in the world, almost at a drop of a hat. It came from his ability to pack his whole life into two suitcases. At the time, I often holidayed with three.

He never owned more than what could fit into those two suitcases. It guaranteed his being mobile and agile. It allowed him to move to another city at a moment’s notice. I envied his clarity, his simplicity, the discipline he had, and the aesthetic it created. It was clean, belonged to the future, and had a slight hint of severity- you know, in a good way.

After the divorce, I let myself be inspired by Achim. I channeled the forward-moving energy, and I purged. I went from owning more than 100 cardboard boxes stuffed with artifacts of my life and reduced it to fifteen. After the purge, I put the fifteen boxes in storage and took a sabbatical. I brought two suitcases and one backpack with me. I avoided owning too many things by becoming nomadic for a year or two. I left for Bali to slow down.

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Swedish Death Cleaning

I came back to Japan during the pandemic. No longer a nomad, I can feel my possessions accumulating around me slowly. It creeps up and grows. I haven't counted, but I know I have more than fifteen boxes of stuff now.

I thought about Swedish Death Cleaning -the idea of slowly taking care of your belongings and affairs while you’re still alive, so no one else has to do it for you when you're gone. It was the first time in a while I'd given it thought.

I first heard about it just before my move to Bali. Swedish Death Cleaning and Marie Kondo helped me to let go of my possessions. I heard about it again in the early days of the pandemic. People had an excess of time at home. They were looking for a way to refresh their surroundings, as well as their outlook on life.

More on Swedish Death Cleaning is here, from the New York Times.

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What's Left: Five Days Left to Live

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Katy’s from California. Her hair reminds me of Petaluma and its honey-colored hills, her eyes the cool deep water along Big Sur. During a road trip in Okinawa, she asked her fellow passengers the most challenging question I’ve been asked: "If you knew you had only five more days to live, how would you spend those five days?"

It would take me a while to figure it out. It was a good question to mull over on the road. It was an excellent question for building a life. I borrowed it for my last installment of Afterimage.

Question for You: Did you think about the final five days of your life? What did you learn about yourself? About how you’d spent the last five days? Who would you spend it with, and how? Where? Why? Did you think about it? Did you write it down?

If you haven’t, I urge you to. I'll share what Katy said next:

“Take those five things and do them over the next five years.”

A fine way to design a life, the time each has left, and how we get to share it.

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