We’ve been going through our cupboards, not quite going full KonMari but recognising that we’ve held onto a lot of things which perhaps we don’t need, or more importantly, does not spark joy (or fit). With the additional “inheritance” of stuff from our parents houses this drive to declutter is as much to move away from the appearance of a hoarder’s house to something we are happier with. Because of this, we’ve turned to our photo albums.
Some are quite easy to let go of; there are only so many pictures of mountain areas you can have before they stop being funny (because they’re “hill areas” … get it? No, OK I’ll get my coat). I was always someone that looked to photograph the place (or a toy in the place) rather than people, and certainly back in the day when you wouldn’t see the result until the photos came back from being developed I used to hang on to quite a few. At least I’m now in the digital world and am a little better at just retaining the “best” and even then I still go through the older ones to further distil them down.
Anyway, I found an album going back thirty years or thereabouts. Photos of the twenty-something me typically either running, or canoeing, or doing something Scouting. There were also photos of old friends and those activities that you do when you are a little more carefree. I took a photo of one and sent it to my friend via social media. “Do you want this?” I asked (or something like that – there were other images in the bundle too). About an hour later, I realised that they hadn’t responded, but had seen the image; but also, how annoyed they had been at the time the photo had been taken. I deleted the images, and because I noted they had seen the image, sent an apology for sending the image and any distress that it may have caused (I know, it’s shutting the door after the horse had bolted, but I felt I had to apologise).
I thought about this again this morning; not just about the image itself, but the whole aspect of old photographs and modern lives. I know I’ve commented in the past about how a photograph can spark old memories – people, places, smells etc – and not just in that snapshot, but of the time in general.
But what I hadn’t factored, or considered was that for some the past is something that should very much remain there; for some they will make every effort to remove themselves from that aspect of their lives as they redefine themselves. I’m not just referring to “that time in Ibiza when Trev put that bollard on that statue after going to that club” but more fundamental aspects of their lives, when they realised who they were, how they actually felt and how they wanted to face the world going forward. To those people, reminders of their past may not be a positive one.
I once again returned to a fundamental life question; if you could, would you change your past? For me, I can certainly think of quite a few “course corrections” that could have been made, but I still come back to that “crushed butterfly” thought; if I was able to course correct, what would the impacts be on the life that I know now. But of course, that’s me and my life; and I acknowledge that I walk a different path to someone else.
I still need to declutter, so throwing out old photographs is still something I need to continue to do. But I will take the approach of an introvert; if I decide to throw it out it’s because it’s no longer personal to me and it no longer sparks joy. The retention of that photograph ends with me.
Follow up Notes:
KonMari (https://konmari.com/) and the KonMari method is a simple, but effective method of tidying. The approach was developed by Marie Kondo when she was just 19 and has written several books on the subject.
Crushed Butterfly relates to the 1952 short story “A Sound of Thunder” by Ray Bradbury where the main protagonist changes the future… from the past.
The Black Crane 