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Walking the streets, my footsteps matched the rhythm of tortillas being made. I walked with a water bottle in hand, a couple Q (Guatemalan money), chapstick (because that’s something I actually do need on the daily), and my phone (which was frequently dead or used solely for music and photos). Then I’d go home and beat the dust off my old boots and make myself popcorn. Book in hand, I’d lie on the roof to soak up the sun; if there was time, I would nap. These days were simplicity in its purest form.
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My attention shifted from the physical to the intangible – my hair was partially dreaded but no one cared – we had work to do. I was the healthiest and happiest version of myself, and that’s a hard realization to come to now that I’m back in the states. I’m no longer simply tuning out the local traffic or salesman yelling in the street, now my thoughts are competing with the sounds of injustices rattling windows, the clamor of an attention seeking culture, the threat of a community lacking.
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Sometimes I wonder if things were easier in Guatemala because my minimalism was still materialism by comparison to the poverty I walked by. But my time and thoughts, the room in my heart, that was all taken up by something other than the usual stuff we collect here. I was packing my life full of jokes and quicksand moments, rather than physical items. My favorite things quickly became shared meals and tight hugs
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Being back in the States, I'm now left wondering how to proceed and this is about the only thing I’ve found to be helpful – a rule of thumb I try to live by: de-clutter when I feel suffocated. If I look around and feel my breath get caught in my chest, I know it’s time to sift, whether it be relationships or things, thoughts or beliefs. We're so eager for expansion, maybe we need to be equally welcoming of contraction.