Stuff

Even when you think you’ve done a good job of containing clutter, you realize that stuff threatens to overwhelm you. We’ve been making lists this weekend, mentally doing inventory of every room in our Florida house as we decide what to store, what to bring back to Michigan, and what to dispose of. Although we’ve owned the house for 10 years, we’ve never really “lived” there full time. It was always a vacation home, so we purposely tried not to clutter it up with too much stuff.

But we did furnish it from scratch (and oh, was that fun!) so we had to purchase every little thing you need to survive in a home, from wastebaskets to screwdrivers and everything in between. You’d be surprised at the things you take for granted - rubber bands, paper clips - that you don’t have in a brand new house.

As we do our inventory 10 years later, we realize that despite our best efforts we could probably start our own hotel supply company. Even though I intended to buy just the bare minimum, in a house with three bedrooms and three bathrooms, the bare minimum turned out to be quite a lot, and certainly more than I need up here in my little 1950’s style ranch house.

I don’t really have the kinds of hospitality supplies & hotel catering supplies that some folks do, but there’s a pretty good start toward setting up my own mini version of the new PeaceSuite Hotel Linen and Laundry Supply I read about online the other day. Their slogan is “take control and get organized.” Now that’s something I definitely need more of.

Life Happens

It’s been quiet here at the Byline. No clackety clack of typewriter keys in the press room, no crotchety, cigar -chewing editor barking out assignments from the city desk. But then, it’s usually quiet here - just me and my little Apple computer, tucked into my favorite chair.

Like most news rooms, a lot goes on behind the scenes. Many things happen out there in the “real world” that coalesce in my mind and finally become words on the page. Although the only editor is the very fallible one in my brain there’s an editorial type voice in my head,  an ever-present impetus to try and bring my experiences to life on the page.

Life has been writ rather large of late. Lots of stuff going on and most of it hasn’t been good. Today I compared the events of the past week with a perfect storm - a coalescence of conditions that brought a number of things to a head at the same time and created utter chaos.

And I’ll admit - I don’t do well with trauma. I’m not one of those Sadie Strong types of women who thrive when the going gets tough. I like life on an even keel, and when it isn’t I’m the first one looking for a bucket to start bailing.

But there are oh so many things from which there are no escape. Old age. Illness. Death. Taxes.

Change.

That’s the big one.

There’s a big bunch of it around here.

So things will likely continue quietly in this newsroom while I attempt to keep my wits straight and my head above the water.

Monday Come and Gone

Well, Monday. You lived out your reputation today.

You brought me internet and automotive failure with broken crockery and dog vomit thrown in for good measure. It was a day of subtle - and not so subtle - annoyances, the kinds that make you throw your hands up and say “What next?”

As I was on my hands and knees gingerly cleaning up shards of glass (where just moments before I had been cleaning up the aforementioned dog vomit), I fully expected the phone to ring with news from my accountant of a Ginormous tax bill.

Oddly enough, it didn’t. (Although the night is not over yet.)

Some days it’s hardly worth getting up in the morning. But life undulates like waves on the ocean that I love so much. The natural rhythm of the world lives in our spirits, I think, and keeps us ever mindful of opportunities for things to be better.

Otherwise, how could we go on?

With what remains of this Monday I will take some deep cleansing breaths, curl up in front of the television (Dancing With the Stars, y’all) with a warm puppy on each side of me, and let my mind sweep and sway across the ballroom floor.

Later I will sleep and dream of a tomorrow that is better and brighter and less fraught with wrongs.

How about you? How was your Monday?

Open for Business

“Open Easter Sunday, from 12:00 - 8:00."

So read the sign at PetSmart yesterday when I took Molly in for her bath and haircut.

So read the sign at Bed Bath and Beyond this morning when I went stopped in to shop for a new doormat.

So read the sign at Home Depot when I drove by on my way to lunch at Panera Bread.

I’m certainly no authority on Christian doctrine or history, but I’m quite certain that Jesus would not have arisen from the tomb and felt the need to go shopping at PetSmart, Bed Bath and Beyond, or Home Depot.

To parpharse a once popular song -“What’s shopping got to do with it?"

 Whether or not  you observe Easter (or Passover) from a religious standpoint, these holidays give us the opportunity to spend time with family or friends, to step back from everyday concerns and focus on something more meaningful than the mundane tasks of life. When stores remain open on holidays, they force their employees to choose between family time and work, a choice they already must make far too often. Plus they encourage the rest of us to forsake time we might otherwise spend more fruitfully.

At the risk of sounding like a cranky old Grandma (wait - I am a cranky old Grandma!) I recall when retail stores were never open on Sunday, or even after 5:00 p.m. (except on Thursdays and Fridays). Would it really be so  bad if we couldn’t wander around the mall on Sunday afternoon? What would we miss if we weren’t able to buy cosmetics, or electrical equipment, or tennis shoes until Monday morning?

Instead of shopping and spending money most of us don’t have anyway, perhaps we could go to a concert or movie, play games with our kids, try out a new recipe. Take a nap. Take a walk. Read a book.

Naturally  from a business standpoint it’s all about making a profit. But from a human standpoint, I think we need to be about another business entirely.The business of living a meaningful, fulfilling life, one that enriches us, our family and friends, and the wider world around us.

I just don’t believe shopping has anything to do with that.

Excavating

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms or like books written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them...Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. -Rainer Maria Rilke

 For several years now, I’ve made a practice of sitting down to write each morning. I do this shortly after I wake up -before my walk and after my coffee-while the impressions of sleep still swirl in my subconscious mind. This morning writing is not for public consumption, will not appear in essays, or on any of the blogs, or even on Facebook or Twitter. These words are just for me, and they come from a place so deep inside that I couldn’t consciously find my way there.

More times than I can count, I have learned something new about myself during this writing time. There is some connection between my spirit and the pen, some alchemy that occurs when my hand starts moving across the page which causes truths to rise up from the hidden levels of my soul and appear in front of me on the page. It connects me with the deeper questions about what is “unsolved in my heart” and allows me the patience to observe them from different angles.

I come to this writing time with great anticipation, because it’s the one time of day I can sit with my own thoughts, the time of day I allow myself to dig deeply for thoughts and ideas and feelings. The paper and pen become my tools for excavation, sweeping across my mind for hidden nuggets of gold.

There is so little time for stillness in the everyday world. We itch to fill every second with stimulation or productivity, and modern technology certainly gives us ever opportunity to do just that.

Whether it’s the actual writing itself, or just the 30 minutes of quiet, I rely on that sacred time to help me unearth my most important feelings and thoughts, and bring them with all honesty to the page.

How about you? What does writing bring to light for you? How do you excavate your deepest thoughts and feelings from the safety of their burial place?