The things we carry.

Soon I will be leaving my home in Melbourne to spend a few months in another state. A Friend of a friend is renting my room so it's time for me to Marie Condo my space and remove everything that isn't essential. I've packed away three large bags of clothes and put them in the top of my closet, packed up all my oils and balms and creams in a shoe box and have folded the scarves and beanies to put in a basket. The amount of 'stuff' I have in my room seems to be exponentially disproportionate to the calm solitude that it provides me. Vases and pictures layered behind pictures, face mists and crystals on the window cill, so excessive. All perfectly placed but also needing dusting every 3 days. These are the things we carry. I've been watching a youtube channel called Nowness. It takes the audience through someones apartment as they tell the stories of all the things they have collected, how they've chosen to display them, how they collate them in thematic corners and create colour palettes across rooms. The people selected are like hoarders with interior design degrees; people who collect things from op shops and receive hand-me-downs, then make extravagant art purchases from huge NYC galleries. Somehow though, these 'things' mean something to them. These things make them feel a certain way, it's almost like they've attached their identity to the items they've surrounded themselves with. I certainly have. When I was a child we moved house a lot, it was a peripatetic experience where by we would establish these new spaces and create them together. My mum and I were a force to be reckoned with when it came to moving house. An absolute dynamic pair. Van Morrison would be turned up loud, mum would put on her overalls and call over her closest friends and we would begin the ritual. I can wrap porcelain in tissue paper like nobody's business. We lived in a 3 storey tree house, and when the owners wanted to move back in because mum made the house look so good, the neighbours offered us their place so we just moved next door. Mums rule was simple, no view, no can do. I remember her so clearly saying once, 'there is no point living on the South Coast if you don't have a view.' I don't know how mum did it but she made every house feel like home (except maybe the haunted one). I love that about her, she can make any house feel like it's yours and she's the only person I know who could turn a handful of drought ridden dirt into a thriving veggie garden in an inconceivably short amount of time. Because of our frequent moving experience, I think it was 9 houses in 16 years, I developed this ability to see a space and imagine everything fitting in its right position like a puzzle. All the same stuff, reimagined anew. I think the skill has helped my job a lot, and moreover my side hustle. Last week I had a meeting with someone who is starting a film production company. They have asked me to come on board and do socials for the company, and for the first time I have to actually design an instagram grid in advance, with a strategy and plan. That's not my forte. I can usually just see it. I post in the moment and it all comes together like Tetris in my mind, the colours, the balance, the aesthetic storyboard, it all just syncs. So with this pre-planned project I'm certainly challenging myself but I feel incredibly privileged that they see the potential in me like my other clients (so weird saying that.) Back to our treasure collections of what other people might consider to be trash, I wonder how the trinkets, postcards with blu-tack on them, the side tables, candle holders, cups and rugs get fused to us and become essential elements for our houses to feel like homes. I wonder what it is about the colours and textures of all the things I've collected that are tangible representations of my personality. And to that end, I wonder how the layering of them is a reflection of my growth and expansion of self awareness. But I love it all, and when a new piece comes into the family it's welcomed with open arms for the long journey to the many destinations to come. I'm not good at staying in one place, one job, and yes, my one serious relationship. It scared me because it was the longest thing I'd ever stayed in and I think the thought of staying in one place with one person terrified a body and mind that was used to constant change. But these are the things we carry. You my dear reader, carry yours well. Thank you for giving me your time, M

Daily Ceremony acknowledges Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as the traditional custodians of the land we work on, and we pay our respects to elders past, present and emerging.