In the past few months I have learned a lot about packing, shipping, movers, and unpacking. Were I to write a book about my experiences, the chapters might include, Why You Will Later Decide to Discard Items You Pack First; The Art and Folly of Labeling Moving Boxes; Where’s My Drill?; and Unpacking: A Scavenger Hunt You Won’t Win. But I’m not going to write a book about this. If my life goes as planned, everything I learned here will never be useful to me again.

This led me to think about other activities people pursue that have little chance of increasing our knowledge. Everyone expects to plan just one wedding, and even those of us who exceeded our limit generally got just one of the white veil, bevy of attendants, bouquet-throwing variety. Some people only buy one house or choose one dog. Veering to the dark side, I notice that death by selfie fits this category, though others may learn from it.*

But why do we want to build up expertise anyway? Spending all our time doing things we know how to do well, or learning to do other things well so we can do them more,  is the opposite of creativity. While some structure is necessary to launch creative exploration, too often we stick with what we know, which stifles creativity and leads us to more habitual lives, lives which, while cozy, are hardly wellsprings of vigor, or growth, or innovation.

My husband and I packed our worldly goods just once, moved them across the country, and walked away from that. Now the trick will be, will we set up our old habits here, or will this new place spark personal rebirth? I’ll try to take my own advice, just as soon as I finish unpacking.

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