How many of you are good at letting go of clutter? I mentioned a while ago how I come from a long line of clutter bugs, and how I have a natural tendency to hold on to lots of random things until they start to pile up around the house and it becomes obvious that some decluttering is in order. We have come to such a point in our house, and the better part of this past week has been spent pitching things that have no obvious use, sorting through clothes that the kids have outgrown or clothes that are simply no longer being worn, taking a good look at things that I have held on to for years and asking why they are still in my life…
And I am exhausted. Each object I keep in my life has some kind of sentiment attached to it. In spite of all of the books I have read about the importance of clearing clutter, I don’t seem to have developed a natural ability to just not accumulate it in the first place. With two young children added into the mix, I have plenty of excuses for not keeping up with my possessions and routinely sorting through my stuff and doing clear-outs. Going through bursts of clutter clearing like I have done the past pew days leaves me feeling positively wiped out on every level–physically, mentally, emotionally.
And yet I’m excited at the same time. Every time I do a good, honest purging of my possessions, it is as if my whole life has room to breathe again. My living space is more vibrant, energy flows more easily, and positive coincidences crop up with noticeably greater frequency.
In my personal journal writing, I keep asking muses, divine helpers, guides, teachers, guardian angels to be present and assist me in discerning between what is no longer useful and what is truly beneficial to keep in my life. I pray for the courage to let go of the memories that some of these objects represent…past relationships, experiences, feelings that I had back then. I know that letting go of the past leaves more space for me to be in this present moment, but I also am acutely aware of the comforting feeling that some of these things give me, just to have them, even if they aren’t immediately useful.
I noticed today that I really do have a thing about rocks…I have rocks from France, from California, Utah, Colorado, Montana, Italy, Turks and Caicos, India, Scotland…I can look at each rock and remember where I picked it up or who gave it to me. This one came from a river. That one a beach. That one from a mountaintop. This one from a friend…And rocks are heavy. Do I want to hold on to them and eventually move them into a nice new house when the time comes for that? And if I don’t hold on to them, what could I possibly do to honor their existence? Surely I wouldn’t throw a piece of the French Alps or the California coast or the Italian Dolomites into the trash. Surely they deserve some beautiful resting place…beneath a tree maybe, or in a flowing river?
My journals were mentioned in a previous post–I have boxes and boxes of them, chronicling decades of my life. Do I want to hold on to them and move them when the time comes? Yes, I want to hold on to my journals. Should I question this wanting, or can I just allow myself to have it, despite how heavy those boxes are?
Who here is really good at decluttering? Who here understands the psychology behind the accumulation of possessions, and can offer some words about how you give yourself space in which to create, to express, to feel and to know this moment?
Any words of advice? I have many, many nooks and crannies to sort through before our house is anywhere near presentable.
And by the way, we’re planning to put our house on the market this coming Wednesday…
When I close my eyes and become still
When I let go for just a moment of everything outside of myself,
When I come home to the center of my being,
Everything I need is exactly where I am.
As I begin to create more space in my life,
in my mind, body, and spirit,
I become excited about the potential for fresh, new experiences,
Change is so scary. Uprooting is scary. Letting go is scary.
But does it have to be that way?
Divine Spirit, guide me back home to myself.
Help me to carve away the excess so that I can
penetrate to the deep core of my essence.
Help me to remember that the real treasure
cannot be held in my hands,
only in my heart.
And help me to laugh as I let go,
Like a child who throws rocks into a pond
delights in the sound of splashing,
and then silence…and endless ripples
radiating from the center.