Not Equal, Not the Same

I don't know about others, but because I was raised with Not Enough, I grew into my maximalist life and style willingly and knowingly.

I feel the need to be prepared, so as I prepped for my move to Paris, I packed only my winter wardrobe, but I also included a few gowns and accessories.

When I was visiting for a couple of weeks each time previously, I made do with the minimum as I knew that I would be returning to all my things, but because this would become my primary home for most of the year, it was the material things that had to come first so that I could dress like me, look like me, feel like the me I had decided I was, even though I knew that my life would be drastically different here in Paris.

I was holding on, still, to a subset of me that could be reattached when the occasion called for it.

As I packed up my home in Pandan Valley, I found it almost like I was choosing which part of me had to be stored away, as I could not keep a whole study worth of things.

Was it the paints, the sewing machines, the crafting? Each was such a part of me, down to how I reached for colourful pens to write, to a variation of Post-it notes, to how I need to decorate each file to my maximalist style.

Not being able to reach for variety makes me think that I am not producing my best work because I do not have access to my supplies, and therefore my creativity was limited.

So I took all the oils and perfumes, the scrapbooking and pens into my home in Singapore, but stored my sewing machines and threads as well as my paints and mediums.

I have now arrived in Paris for the third week. I spent the first two getting a desk as large as I could, the same 49" monitor as I used in Singapore, and bought like 200 pens of various colours from the art store so that I could just write my journal and colour.

I needed, or told myself that I needed, my stuff to feel like me, contrary to what I write on LinkedIn claiming that home isn't the place that has the majority of my things.

I realised, I needed my armour to face the outside world. Access to variety or variations makes me feel safe: that is the story I am telling myself, because how can I possibly identify me without the colours and the bling?

What exactly am I trying to hold onto, or why do I keep calling Paris a different life, whilst inside I know my life in Singapore had been a very smooth and easy one which I have released to try something different? Why then am I labelling this new foray as not equal, knowing full well it is not the same?

The same pattern, in other lives

I noticed that during sessions, new relationships get compared to old ones, as it will definitely be different because it's a whole new different person, yet we want to pick and choose only the good and best of the previous and expect the new to give more as well as contain the best attributes of the old.

The flip side are clients that are the opposite. They won't keep even one more article of clothing because they don't like it anymore or won't wear it again so everything has to go: the fear of clutter as opposed to keeping or taking everything, especially when it's free.

You might recognise yourself on either side of this.

Maybe you feel steadier with your own things around you, and you catch yourself holding the new place or the new person up against what came before.

Or maybe you feel lighter each time something goes, and you clear it out the moment it stops feeling like you.

Either way, you are looking after the person you worked hard to become, and the old life is still setting the standard for the new one.

What Jung called the mask

Carl Jung called the face we show the world the persona. He described it as a mask, a compromise between who we are and what the world around us expects. My gowns and my colours are part of what I call armour, and I love them.

He also wrote that when an old persona falls away, rebuilding it exactly as it was tends to leave a person smaller than before. When I read that, I thought of the two hundred pens - they aren't the same as the ones I had in Singapore...

In his essay on the stages of life, Jung wrote that "the afternoon of human life must also have a significance of its own." I am in that afternoon now, and I want it to mean something without Singapore as the measure.

What you get to decide

Whatever you are moving into, you decide which parts of you come with it. Keep the armour you actually reach for, and give the new life room to be good in its own way.

Take one thing you brought with you, or one thing you got rid of, and ask a plain question: is this for the life I am living now, or for the one I left?

I am asking it of every pen on my desk this week as I learn to use them for more than just journalling.

If you are in the middle of a move and find yourself holding on or clearing out, the Free Reset audio at aroranin.com is a guided practice to settle your body before you decide.

With a Quiet Heart & A Quiet Mind,

Arora