Experience Before Possession or More Adventures, Less Stuff

Not long ago, a friend and I had a conversation that shed a new light on a long-held conviction of mine: that living life is better than owning it, that the value of experience is higher than the value of possession. Or, as one of my sisters often puts it in motto form: More Adventures, Less Stuff. This friend pointed out a scientific study that indicated people who choose to invest in experiences rather than objects identify as being happier than their stuff-hoarding counterparts. Of course, at the time of this conversation I already knew that adventure was my preference. It is not in me to be satisfied with living a mundane, average, or tedious life. And I knew that the adventures (however small-scale or large) I have often plotted and planned and carried out for my children and I are our most valuable educational resource. I knew experiences of exposure to new people, new ideas, new places, arts, culture, nature, science, service, empathy...these are the makings of knowledge that shapes this life for us and leaves this life with us, unlike anything that can be bought. But I had never before really applied the thought that now seems so obvious: we are happier for the things we do. And, perhaps more importantly, can be made unhappy by the things we have, if they are too much, or not the right things, or more important to us than living life.

Four months ago, my children and I moved from a 3000 square foot house to a 900 square foot apartment. We reduced our possessions-- our stuff--by at least 60%. It was, at first, difficult to decide what would stay and what should go, but when we really thought about the ways we use our time, and the ways we would like to use our time, rather than the ways we were trying to make ourselves want to use our time, the task sorted itself out. Which toys did the children actually care about? Which books did they actually read? Which arts/ crafts projects was I actually going to do and which was I just hauling around from place to place, telling myself that the me who doesn't use her time that way is an unacceptable version of me? Even in the matter of my wardrobe (and you know I love me some clothes and accessories and shoes), I said goodbye to the things that were not bringing me joy. Small space living is intentional. It is systematic. It requires careful choice and thought. We have found our new home to not only be much more manageable and to bring us together more, but we have also found more freedom in the purposeful ways we choose what stays in our home and what goes.


I do not belittle the experiences of everyday when a life is well-lived. The human connections. The selfless service. The beauty to be found in the simplicity of home. But I also esteem travel, and have always, always loved to explore the world. In the last two years, with the financial decisions and priorities finally being my own, we've been able to make regular trips to see family, to meet friends, to explore new places like never before. Even when money is tight, you just decide what matters. Personally, I am willing to take risks and cut corners elsewhere for an unforgettable, adventure-filled life. Last year, with my theme of House in Order , part of my focus was to arrange our finances and time in a way that would make it possible for us to travel more in the future. And we got a good start. For Christmas our big family gifts were ASTC passes, and tickets to see Newsies in Spokane in May (experience +  experience). This year, staying on that trajectory, the kiddos and I spent New Year's Eve planning what is to be our most epic summer road trip yet. We talked about the sacrifices we'd have to make to make it happen. The lack of stuff. And I think we can do it, blogland. We'll go from our home in Missoula to my sister and bro-in-law's home in L.A., stopping all along the way to visit family, friends, historic sites, holy temples, national parks, ASTC museums, and whatever strikes our fancy. Then, after a few days in La-La-Land, (with maybe a little Wizarding World of Harry Potter thrown in there, if we can swing it), we'll come back home by way of the 101, driving all the way up the Pacific coastline. Again, stopping to see friends and have more beautiful adventures on the way.

It's a tall order, I know. It's a big dream. But it's the dreams, big or small, not the fancy things, that make life a happy adventure worth living.  

Let's Pretend it's November

 The rhythm of my life is reflected in the frequency of my writing. When my most important priorities--my family, my health, my faith--need more of my time and energy, I give it. And the work-in-progress novel manuscript goes back in the box under the bed, the article ideas get jotted on a sticky note for future reference, and the blog posts in my head go unwritten for a season. Then, when we grow accustomed to whatever changes have come our way and life's rhythm becomes steady once again, the words come back to me, and they won't be put off anymore. Such is my chronological, list-making, check mark- checking nature, however, that I find it impossible to pick up in my writing from where I am. I have to go back. I have to catch up on all the things I want to share, all the memories I don't want to forget. So, before we get to baby (yes, he's here!) and natural childbirth, creative craftiness, and the new rhythm of our little family of five, let's pretend it's November. Because I want to tell you just a little about our amazing week in the city where Tony Bennett left his heart and Train begs to be saved: San Francisco.

Waiting for our turn on the street car.

Lunch at Boudin

Boat tour under the Golden Gate.

Lombard Street

I have two sisters. One lives in L.A., the other in Oakland. I get to see them maybe once every two years. This time around (in November, remember? haha i made a rhyme!), we--and by 'we' I mean: a very pregnant me, my hubs, our two kiddos, my parents, my older sister and her hubs--converged spectacularly on the Oakland home of my little sister Andrea and her boyfriend Connolly. The latter had not met most of us before and, it must be said, exercised heretofore unheard of levels of patience with our family's standard dysfunctional mode of cray-cray. Thank you, Connolly.

We spent a week crashing at their home by night, and back-and-forth bay-hopping by day, diving head-first into San Francisco (and a little Oakland) tourist culture. Street cars, Fisherman's Wharf, and Lombard Street, SFMOMA, Aquarium of the Bay, and the Academy of Science. We walked and bussed and rode trains and boats, we ate sourdough bread with almost every meal. We carried extra jackets and sweaters for San Francisco's famously unpredictable weather, and basically spent seven days building family memories, teaching our children, and reminding ourselves, how to let go and immerse ourselves in a travel experience that helps shape our view of the world.

You see, we have these philosophies, Brian and I, by which we try to live, and, more to the point try to parent. One is a commitment to value experiences over possessions--we don't own a house, or even much furniture; our income is modest, but we manage it in a way that allows us to partake in every good learning experience that comes our way (ie: rock climbing lessons or a video game system? the choice, for us, is obvious). Another is that knowledge and relationships are the only things we take with us when we leave this world, so shouldn't our knowledge be wide and our family bonds deep? We think so. And that only comes with time spent together, discovering life.

The Palace of Fine Arts, which houses the Exploratorium.

Science at Exploratorium.

Ditto.

The Museum of Modern Art.

Creating at MOMA.

Laurelei deemed this piece her favorite at MOMA.

Quidditch goggles for SF exploring- gift from Uncle and Auntie.

In Oakland, at Children's Fairyland.

Alice's rabbit hole at Fairyland.

Air garden at Academy of Science.

So we left the City by the Bay with hundreds of new memories, at least as many photographs, if not more (I am married to this guy, after all) and very few souvenirs. Most of what we bought we either did (tickets, admissions, etc.), or ate (food = gooood). And we talked about those seven days and all they brought us again and again, letting the memories warm the rest of our chilly November back home.

What are your goals when you travel as a family? What places have you loved visiting? I hope many, and many more to come.

xo

Better Than The Best

     Our Sunday drive this past weekend took us to the Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge down the Bitterroot Valley, where our intended one-or-two-hour outing turned into a five-hour, linger-happily-in-the-wilderness family adventure. With the golden light in the shadow of St. Mary's peak, the lush green grasses of spring in the riparian zone, and piles of soft, white, washed-up-by-the-river sand to play in, no one wanted to go home.

     Red-winged blackbirds, which are my favorite for their throaty, warbling song,  danced around us on the cattails, warning us from their reedy nests.

     All the female Yellow-headed blackbirds gathered together to chat while their mates remained vivid guardians at the water's edge.

     We watched a Great Blue Heron catch fish, patiently waiting, tilting his head and bob-walking slowing through the water, then striking with a speed that was thrilling to see. The kids jumped and cheered, then gasped as a larger bird of prey (Golden Eagle?) swooped at it in an attempt to steal the hard-won meal.

     There was a moment, as we walked along the swollen Bitterroot river, the kids running ahead, finding treasures among the sticks and rocks and wildflowers, Brian and I strolling behind, when I thought, "It only keeps getting better, doesn't it? This Mammahood thing." And then immediately I knew that thought wasn't quite right...because if I deemed the moments that came each new day as better, wasn't I then somehow discounting those that came before? And those moments--baby on my breast, tiny hand clinging to my finger, little sleeper on my shoulder, preschooler proudly reciting ABCs-- those were the best.

     But these moments I have now--thinkers who tell me about their inventions over breakfast, bookworms who beg to go to the library, naturalists who keep pet worms in an old dirt-filled rain boot on the back deck--they are the best too. I think it's the fact that the old moments never leave me; the memories simply become the root from which the new moments grow. The babies who are our children who will someday be our teenagers and our grown-ups will always, at the heart of everything that is our family, still be our purpose and joy. And for Brian and I, that means that every moment (even the hard ones!) can be better than the best.

     Hope your Mamma moments are better than the best.

xo

Home Again, Home Again

Hello blogland. I'm home.

True to my word, and despite temptation to do otherwise, I have not written a post in over three weeks. It's been enough to send me into a serious non-blogger mindset (and by non-blogger I mean someone who doesn't photograph everything she makes, does, eats, reads, etc...all while thinking up quirky and clever titles for posts and hearing the content sentences form in her mind). But I'm about to get over that. I might, in the next few weeks, have to backtrack and share a couple of the things I was tempted to blog during my hiatus, like a beautiful Fall Festival with my little ones, but for now, I have soooo much to say about my trip to Houston for Quilt Market.

Ahhh, Quilt Market...with your hustle and bustle and schmancy hotel stays...your seriously huge convention center show floor that is really not friendly on backs and feet... and most of all, your rows and rows of crafty eye candy. 

Behold: 

(Lark by Amy Butler)

 (Seriuosly cute embroidery patterns by Penguin and Fish)

(A Dia de los Muertos themed booth by Alexander Henry)

(Anna Maria Horner's Loulouthi now in flannels and velveteen- hullo? To die for.)

And there's more. Soooo much more. But one thing I actually did  in the blogger mindset while at market was interview a half-dozen or so designers. Like, in person. (I know, right?) So I'm holding back those photos for when I post the interview series (which I'm calling 5 Minutes With a Fabric Designer) starting next Monday. Yay!

Now on to the eye candy outside the convention center.

The thing about going to a conference or a trade show like Quilt Market is that if you have any interest at all in the city that you're going to, don't get your hopes up to see any of it. Unless you extend your trip and plan ahead, you're really only going to see a hotel room, a couple of restaurants and a convention center floor. That's just not why you're there. But Saturday in Houston, I had a rough day. 

Raw honesty time.

I mentioned in my pre-market post that I was going to Houston to teach a school house (mini workshop) with Sandi. What I  didn't  reveal was that my reasons for attending were actually threefold. 

1.) The school house. 

2.) A chance to hob-knob a little with the awesome peeps who will (hopefully) someday soon want to publish a project book I've proposed. 

3.)I was also going to QM to show a portfolio of my own artwork to fabric manufacturers, with the hopes of one day becoming a fabric designer myself. 

Items one and two on the list went well. Really well. Item three...As any artist/ writer/ photographer/creator-of-anything can tell you, this takes guts. I'm not tooting my own horn here, it's just a fact. Putting yourself on a piece of paper and asking a stranger to tell you how you've fallen short, in the hopes of improving and growing, is an emotionally draining process. And being a thousand (ish) miles away from my husband and children- my true comforts and strengths- while doing it, quite frankly sucked. 

I felt weakened and beaten down, even though I know in reality it made me stronger.

Anyway...point. What was my point? Oh, right. Saturday was a rough day. And after a party and a dinner where I had to keep a smile on my face, and a cab ride back to the hotel to save my aching feet, I just needed to be alone for awhile and do something creative. So I changed into jeans and flat shoes (hallelujah for flat shoes) grabbed my camera and set out into the night. I didn't go far (don't worry Mom and Dad). Actually, I mostly stayed inside. The Hilton we (by 'we' I mean Sandi and I and Sandi's mom Jodi and the adorable Sarah Jane) were in had these amazing blown glass sculptural light fixtures that I really wanted to photograph...

I did go out a little...

...to take in the calming night air. 

It's amazing to me, having had my creations under the microscope all day long, how the thing that healed me most was to create more.  Even if it was a different medium. Even if the end product was nothing to write home about. The process of seeing and capturing something visual from my own point of view is always transforming. As is writing about it here.

Thanks for reading my ramblings, blogland.

Oh, and if you were one of the attendees at our school house and you heard me mention the free embroidery patterns, they are coming. I promise. They should both be on my 'make' page by Saturday, so keep checking back.

Fabric designer interviews start next week. I think we'll kick it off with Sandi Henderson (c'mon, you knew that was coming) and the one and only David Butler. 

xo