how clutter makes us fat, and how to slow down to see
I went in search of the sound of scratching.
I found it coming from behind the door of no admittance.
From the room that used to be my sister-in-law’s bedroom until this house was moved across the field in the ’60s and the room was halved to accommodate a stairway to a full basement.
My mother-in-law used it for storage, including scrapbooks and antique linens–many tagged as to their family roots, some tagged to be returned at her death to those who created them for her. I still have some of these.
We stored things in that room, too, after we acquired the house. The space also morphed into a walk-in closet, a craft room, a nursery, and now again storage–ahem, clutter–cave.
I called my husband. “Were you in the front room this morning?”
“Yes, I had to pull out a suit bag.”
“You know you shut Bella in there.”
It’s not the first time a cat has gotten caught where it shouldn’t be. It’s how a dresser drawer got shredded. I don’t know how long Samantha had been imprisoned in my sweaters. It’s how we had to buy a new mattress last year–when my husband shut Kobe Kat in the guest/Grace’s room for a whole day–or two–while I was in Petoskey.
“You really need to clean out that room,” he tells me.
I know this. But that means gutting it and creating clutter in the living room for a day or two or week.
“Don’t do that again,” I whine. “I know where to step. You don’t. I’m going to clean it. Soon. I hope.”
Did you know that clutter can make you fat? Literally? It’s true. There’s a whole book about it. I’m not as inspired to creatively cook in a mess, or when I have a mess on my mind.
Just pass another handful of M&M’s please.
I’m still stripping stuff. Purging possessions purchased, inherited, gifted. I must be on the tenth trip around the mountain in my march to minimalism.
Because too much stuff stifles stillness. It spills into our spirits.
It crams the corners of our hearts and leaves little room in the inn.
It’s hard to hear when our hearts are fat.
The external does affect the internal.
Clutter collides with creativity.
Clutter makes me cranky.
It’s hard to seek serenity when you’re surrounded with stuff.
It’s hard to surrender unless you let go.
It’s hard to slow down and be still when you’re surrounded with stuff.
But it’s only the slow and the still who see.
I’m going to clean that room.
But it’s lunch time.
Please pass the M&M’s.
In the stillness,
Jamming with Bonnie today and the Faith Barista community as we tackle the prompt of clutter.