Early yesterday I woke with an itch — to set things in order. Bill receipts, prescriptions, photographs, drawings: mementos of yesterday — little trinkets of time. Nostalgia is not my friend, and boy, purging feels so good.
I found some old cds, one of which was a souvenir from a wedding I attended as a kid. I do know now that the couple have broken up.
Sometimes, these articles, enveloped objects of affection are like shells of memory. Sadly, they ought to last more than what they actually symbolise.
It’s kind of a daunting task: that, of tidying up. The more you put things in order, the more it becomes disarrayed. Tidying up is an art, says Marie Kondo, as she has glorified the life-changing magic of decluttering. She has been pegged as this Cleaning Consultant to have this radical, two-pronged approach to tidying up: “First, put a hand on everything you own, ask yourself if it sparks joy, and if it doesn’t, that it for its service and get rid of it. Second, once only your most joy-giving belongings remain, put every item in a place where it’s visible, accessible, and easy to grab and then put it back. Only then, Kondo says, will you have reached the nirvana of housekeeping, and never have to clean again.” This is as clinical and topical as it sounds. Perfect for neat freaks.
Being a cleaning consultant, how does she unearth and organise as a discipline? How does one not err on the side of clutter, the unnecessary, the excessive, and instead transform this dark energy to light?
I was brought up in a sort of military training: upon waking up, fold your sheets, tuck it back in. At least you’ve accomplished something in the first few minutes of your day.
That’s how I’ve lived my life (or so I thought) — always persisting to accomplish, striving for the next level, pushing for perfection. What I know now is where I am now is far from perfect. And somehow it feels good. To not have things in order. To fuck up. To make mistakes. To be human. To just be.
That’s probably why I am detaching a little, from the minute details and just see from afar — where the trouble spots are, and what I need to mend.