The Fans of Clutter
God! Why can’t I sleep?
It’s an epidemic.
Cultural amnesia. It was once quite common for families to be up in the middle of the night. Instead of moaning about it, they’d light candles and read to each other.
My dogs haven’t learned to read yet.
You’re not alone. There are millions who are up at 2 am.
I used to go to bed and 4 minutes later I was asleep for 8 ½ hours with no problem.
You’re hiding a deeper problem underneath the insomnia.
I’m restless! I want to get book 2 edited and published. I’m seven months behind schedule already.
It’s deeper than that. You have to let it out before the stress starts affecting everyone and everything around you.
It’s already starting to affect everyone around me. The dogs stick to me like I’m going to die any day. It’s not that I recently turned 65. I’m good with it–and I can still touch my toes. It’s like I’m drowning in the mud bog of inactivity, slowly succumbing to an ancient curse that swallowed up eons of unsuspecting creatures.
You just can’t come out and say it, can you.
I’m content when I have space. I don’t like clutter and yet I’m living in clutter. Most of it, I’d imagine at least 75%, isn’t even mine. I’m expending energy in a losing battle of Feng Shui vs. Harry Hoarder.
You have a husband that doesn’t care about clean or uncluttered.
He has so many good qualities, it’s just that I was looking for a fan to replace the one that stopped working and I don’t like tripping over stuff like the boxes I tried to throw away that are now impeding my ability to get into the spare room.
I’m ready to just chuck it all, walk away, find a cult, shave my head, meditate, and learn how to transcend all of the material aspects of life. But I know that in a week I’d be looking for a computer so I could see what’s on sale at blair.com for 80% off with free shipping and amass more boxes that will end up in the spare room.
What are you going to do about the clutter? No, not the clutter in your house…
I know what the problem is. The clutter in my mind. You’re trying to tell me that I’m on the wrong path and I’ve got to find the right one again.
Now you’re starting to listen. Where did you go wrong?
I have to be patient. My book will be published at the right time.
What about the chest pain, waking up with your throat sore…
I have to stop eating 2 hours before bed–and I have to go through a week of fasting.
And social media?
It’s killing me! I’ve got to take a break, go through the clutter of clothes in my closet that I’m not using and donate to charity what I no longer wear. I have to set up another fan in this room or I’m going to fry. I have to get the color laser printer from hell repaired so that I can give it away to someone who might be able to use it. There’s too much clutter in my office, my house, my mind…my life. Please help me.
Finally, you’re asking for help.
Gee…how could you tell?
You’re finally listening.
I have all of the tax returns I’ve ever filled out, and the receipts for them. I think. I just don’t know what I have anymore or where to find it. I used to be so organized. Now, my organizational skills can be defined by 2 ½ words, “It’s somewhere.” That, I’d imagine is located in close proximity to the fans.
You’re digressing again. You have to detox your body. You have to stop eating the foods that bind your mind. You have to rid your life of the unnecessities.
Will you answer 1 question? Why is it that when I throw something away, stuff I’ve had for 20 years, I need it the next day?
Out of a thousand things you’ve tossed away, how many did you really need the next day?
How the hell should I know? I only remember the ones I needed. I’ve got to think outside the box, to somehow break through it…
You’re not trying to break out of “the box.” You can’t break out of something that no one would allow you access to in the first place. You’re running around like a hamster in a cage going nowhere and expending energy on useless exercises. Stop. Look around. Make a plan. And then find the path you’re supposed to be on. Once you find it, you’ll know it’s right.
I have one more question.
Yes, my child?
Are the fans I’m looking for anywhere near that path?
Only in your dreams.