The concept of thinning isn’t new. It’s the process of cutting back, getting rid of things, deciding what you need and what you don’t. Then acting to eliminate the excess.
Pretty simple. It requires taking action. That’s where people get stuck. Many seem unable to take the first step to clean their garages or closets.
Thinning can pertain to many things, whether it’s old pictures, clothes or memorabilia. I’ve been wiping a few things out of our house over the last year, most recently digging through a file of “hoped for” future vacations or trips.
What drove me to take a look at the file was the growing realization that I’m not going to visit the majority of places in the file. Which means you must make a decision on which ones are more likely or important.
These places were saved as newspaper clips, usually from the Travel section. They make each location and activity sound great – bucolic, majestic, fun, entertaining, relaxing, invigorating. Hence, when reading the piece, I’d clip it out and file it away. “Maybe, some day…..”
That some day has arrived and it’s not going to happen. Hence, the need to thin.
Going through these travel stories, I was struck by my personal fantasy world and expectation of doing certain things during the remainder of my life. Some could still occur, and those were the ones I retained. But many of the clips no longer made sense, if they ever did.
For example, multiple skiing and cross country skiing resorts were in the file. I’ve rarely done either. But I thought someday I might choose to get out in the snow and challenge myself in magnificent winter settings. Nope. Not gonna do that anymore. Might get hurt, tear an ACL, permanently mess up my back. Toss out the ski vacations.
Next came some clips for trips in north Texas, where we used to live. That’s not happening now. Not taking a 15-hour drive to explore a state park at the Oklahoma-Texas border when there are many wonderful state parks within four hours of our house. Throw those vacations out.
Then there were the mountain biking excursions. With the aging process, any desire to take my mountain bike over rough terrain through woods and rock-strewn paths has disappeared. Crumpled those clips.
Three stood out as future options, but with a more realistic bent, which meant cutting out the ones too far away or boring. Make those choices. Train rides, hiking and winter cabin retreats all stayed as possible future options, but I got rid of any that realistically weren’t going to be part of our future agenda.
Finally, there was golf. I still play, still want to take trips, but have lost interest in “bucket list” courses. I don’t want to pay $750+ for a one-time visit on a course just to say I played golf where some major pro tourney was held. There are too many other beautiful, fun, scenic, quiet and quirky courses to motivate me. Those stayed. The high-end cost courses hit the waste basket.
There. The files are thinned. From a four-inch thick pile of newspaper clippings, I down to a stack under two inches. That’s progress. I’m thinned out. Now I need to apply this concept to my stomach.
Pretty simple. It requires taking action. That’s where people get stuck. Many seem unable to take the first step to clean their garages or closets.
Thinning can pertain to many things, whether it’s old pictures, clothes or memorabilia. I’ve been wiping a few things out of our house over the last year, most recently digging through a file of “hoped for” future vacations or trips.
What drove me to take a look at the file was the growing realization that I’m not going to visit the majority of places in the file. Which means you must make a decision on which ones are more likely or important.
These places were saved as newspaper clips, usually from the Travel section. They make each location and activity sound great – bucolic, majestic, fun, entertaining, relaxing, invigorating. Hence, when reading the piece, I’d clip it out and file it away. “Maybe, some day…..”
That some day has arrived and it’s not going to happen. Hence, the need to thin.
Going through these travel stories, I was struck by my personal fantasy world and expectation of doing certain things during the remainder of my life. Some could still occur, and those were the ones I retained. But many of the clips no longer made sense, if they ever did.
For example, multiple skiing and cross country skiing resorts were in the file. I’ve rarely done either. But I thought someday I might choose to get out in the snow and challenge myself in magnificent winter settings. Nope. Not gonna do that anymore. Might get hurt, tear an ACL, permanently mess up my back. Toss out the ski vacations.
Next came some clips for trips in north Texas, where we used to live. That’s not happening now. Not taking a 15-hour drive to explore a state park at the Oklahoma-Texas border when there are many wonderful state parks within four hours of our house. Throw those vacations out.
Then there were the mountain biking excursions. With the aging process, any desire to take my mountain bike over rough terrain through woods and rock-strewn paths has disappeared. Crumpled those clips.
Three stood out as future options, but with a more realistic bent, which meant cutting out the ones too far away or boring. Make those choices. Train rides, hiking and winter cabin retreats all stayed as possible future options, but I got rid of any that realistically weren’t going to be part of our future agenda.
Finally, there was golf. I still play, still want to take trips, but have lost interest in “bucket list” courses. I don’t want to pay $750+ for a one-time visit on a course just to say I played golf where some major pro tourney was held. There are too many other beautiful, fun, scenic, quiet and quirky courses to motivate me. Those stayed. The high-end cost courses hit the waste basket.
There. The files are thinned. From a four-inch thick pile of newspaper clippings, I down to a stack under two inches. That’s progress. I’m thinned out. Now I need to apply this concept to my stomach.