Getting Started

When I was out Christmas shopping this year, I picked up a little book called "the life-changing magic of tidying up" to put in my own stocking. (Mom perk -- getting to stuff your own Christmas stocking.) Anyone who knows me would think that book is the last thing I need; I tend to be pretty organized. Okay then. Really, really organized.  A bit of a control freak.  Still, there must be a reason why such a book appealed to me.

I think it's because the problem with being organized is that things are always, well, organized.  But being organized doesn't mean stuff doesn't accumulate.  Actually, it makes it less annoying and obvious when it does, as everything appears to be under perfect control.  And stuff  creeps up on you, piling up neatly in well-organized drawers, boxes, and files -- and everything stills looks just lovely.  But as things accumulate in their well-controlled containers you find yourself living on the very surface of your "stuff", skimming over so much, only touching the favorite belongings at the surface, overlooking what's below, and never doing the hard work of digging through and figuring out what really should stay -- or go.

The symbolism of all this is not escaping me, of course.  It's not just about the physical stuff.  It might not even be mostly about the physical stuff.  It's about living life on the surface, keeping things (and thoughts, and patterns, and emotions) around that really don't add value, at least not any more. That's what I really want to tidy up -- the inside, not just the outside.

I'm hardly a pack rat, not destined for a TV special about my neurotic hoarding.  But still, why do I keep things that don't make my life better? I wonder what will happen if I follow some of the guidance in that little book, and do a serious, soul-searching purge of my stuff, inside and out?

I'm going to find out.  2015 is going to be my year of tidying up.