You can’t hide your mess
We collect things. We collect feelings. We collect memories. We collect things. Just things. Jars. Tires. Papers. Plastic cups. Mess.
We stuff mess in our closets, in our trunks, in our hearts.
But somehow people always find our mess. They find it when we are weak. When we aren’t watching what we are doing or saying. Suddenly our mess shows up unannounced. The doors are opened and bam…there it is, our mess falls out.
We aren’t proud of it. In fact, we loathe our mess. It makes us uneasy. What if someone we don’t want to see it, sees it. It peeks through the cracks in the door. It falls from the packed shelf. It leaves no room for space and serenity. It drags us down. It drags other people down. Sometimes they are shocked. Or overwhelmed. Or maybe they are saddened or embarrassed by our mess. Or maybe they add to it. Selling us something. Or encouraging our mess, or our excess, by buying our used clothes or old coffee pot.
People don’t like to buy used cars that have been in accidents I guess. That’s an assumption. But I think I’ve heard that.
Mess is messy.
Some messes are David’s and some are Goliath’s.
I hear you’re supposed to make your mess your message.
But I guess you can’t find the message without sorting through your mess. Without showing someone. Showing your vulnerabilities. You have to be ready to throw out some of the mess, face it and get organized.
Who needs 20 pairs of jeans and all those VHS tapes anyway.
