It is time for Mission 2. After completing Mission 1, I took some time to reflect. I wanted to savor my experience.
First, I wanted to reflect upon beginning this blog, which has been an experience in and of itself. Writing is such a curious exercise. Life could be described as a “stimulus blitz.” The seconds of life flow by, generally without recognition nor scrutiny. (Really, can you remember what was intriguing or interesting at quarter past 2 today? There was something of note—you just didn’t see it.) Writing forces a pause. Writing punctuates the endless onslaught of dull, gray input with bright flashes of meaning. Now, writing for others rather than for oneself adds a layer of complexity. The writer rifles through an inadequate vocabulary—selecting and discarding and selecting again—trying to convey her exact and entire perception of a moment or an idea to an audience she does not know. There is no such struggle when I write for myself—mostly, I know exactly what I mean. Next, there was the addition of yoga to my life. There is a mystical element to yoga that is difficult to describe. I don’t fully understand it but I suspect that if there is “divinity,” yoga gets you closer to it.
Choosing Mission 2 was a challenge. Because I write about my experiences, I feel compelled to be “epic” (15 days of ice climbing!). Or to be whimsical (15 days of origami!). Or to be meaningful. These are all worthy—not these missions, per se, but the intents behind them. Also, dear friends who know of this blog were an additional source of ideas. Learn burlesque (I’m being kind by using that word) or critique restaurants (I like that one as I excel at eating), to name a couple. There will be time for some of those later. For now, I am drawn inward. For 15 days, I will purge my home and office of superfluous possessions. These things are also called “clutter” in some circles.
That some sort of minimalist philosophy is beneficial is not a novel idea. Let us assume that the benefit is real (for I believe it is). But—and there is no rhetoric laced in this question—why? We are mind, body and some kind of soul—which of these is offended by excess and clutter? And what causes that sublime feeling of clarity, power and possibility in the presence of an ordered, clear space?
I mean to find out.
“Present Me is tired of holding onto Future Me’s crap. Future Me will just have to deal with it.” Comment from Stephanie, 4.29.09, uncluttered.com
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