Clutter. They say a cluttered space leads to a cluttered mind. I have found this to be true. I recently moved into a new house with a good deal less room than my last abode. In fact, I just about cut my square footage in half, and to say that I am feeling the consequence of this conundrum would be an understatement.
At my previous house, it was easy enough to get rid of the clutter. Almost everything had a space where it “belonged” (or at least where it fit). In my new home clutter seems to build up far more easily. There is much less storage space and putting things in their right place has gotten far more difficult, as it is far more difficult to find a “right place” for every thing. I feel the effects of this in my every day life. There is a weight of something intangible in the air. It makes focusing more difficult. It makes meditation more difficult. It makes everything more difficult.
I have had the thought recently (several times ) that I need more space – envisioning myself in a large house with walk-in closets and a basement with oodles of storage. But despite the fact that a portion of my brain nods fervently in agreement at this visual, it has never rung true with my innermost being. That little part of you that rings alarm bells when something isn’t right; usually sounding as if they are far off in the distance. A church bell carried on the wind from a village a few miles away.
What if the mind is like this too? We have thoughts and feelings that we don’t want to acknowledge because they make our space feel cluttered. We pack them away neatly into whatever cracks and crevices they will fit in. We pull them out only when we’re reaching to find something else that we need – and they come tumbling down out of the closet alongside. Jealousy, rivalry, hatred, greed, shame, resentment. They’re all packed in there alongside our childhood dreams, our inspirations, our creative talents, our most loving and compassionate selves.
When I was living in the larger house, the clutter was still there – in the closets, the attic, the basement – it was just out of sight. Whether I had to see it on a daily basis or not was the only difference. I felt the reality of that when it was time to move and I positively dreaded the thought of having to pack. I knew exactly how much crap there was, even if I didn’t see it on a daily basis, and I was afraid to approach it. It would be hard work, it would be emotionally taxing, it would take time.
It took a few months longer than I’d like to admit for me to realize what the obvious solution was. I don’t need a bigger house. I need less things. Less things equals more space.
And so it is with the mind. We are so incredibly well designed as humans. Overengineered, one might say, in that often our flawlessly designed defense mechanisms often backfire when they continue on working long after the threat is gone. We don’t need more space, we need less things. We must take everything out methodically and purge the things that are not necessary to our well being. All of the things we keep packed away in our brains in case we might need them someday, or simply because they are just too hard to dispose of. The shame, the jealousy, the regret, the biases and the resentments. Every single grudge must be pulled out and discarded. It will be hard work, it will be emotionally taxing, it will take time. It will be a lifelong practice as we acquire more things to be discarded along the way.
But what will be left afterwards will be so incredibly worth it. A spacious room where we feel safe and at ease. All of the good parts that we have kept will have room to dance and grow and flourish. We will have room for our loved ones to be held and room for our creativity to run wild. When only the things that are meant to be there are present, everything will have its place.
We don’t need more space, we need less things.