Clutter Clearing as a Spiritual Practice - Part 3

Follow-Through

As I assist my clients, one of the main things I find myself doing is making note of what sorts of things are piling up, and why.

A big pattern I am seeing emerge is a lack of follow-through.

For most of us, a common pattern looks like this: we come in the door with an arm full of stuff and set in on the first available surface. Then we might run immediately to the bathroom or answer a call or text (or both at the same time), or respond to a pet or child or spouse, or otherwise rush to prepare for the next obligation in our overly busy day.  And while we intend to follow through on the mail sorting, and/or putting away the shopping, and/or putting away the random possessions that are returning to the house, we actually rarely get back to putting away that latest pile of stuff lying on whatever surface is nearest the door.

This is such a common dynamic for my clients, I am now surprised when I enter a home and don't find the inevitable pile of unprocessed mail, flotsam, and jetsam somewhere near the main entrance.  It takes mindfulness and a certain amount of self-discipline to return and process those things, and honestly, most of us don't often have the disposable time.

For myself, I have had to build into my expectations and time-budgeting the intention to process all that stuff shortly after getting home, and slowly this behavior is becoming a habit. Instead of shifting into the next gear the minute I get in the door, I choose to stay with all the things I've just brought in the door until they are all processed. Mail gets sorted into instant recycling, instant shredding, and the place on my desk where bills and such go to await my desk time. Groceries and shopping items get put all the way away including all the bags and receipts.

Done. All done.  It is a wonderful new pattern.

There are always days when I get distracted or way-laid or am short on time. Those days I often walk into our kitchen later in the day to find unprocessed stuff still sitting on the table.  Of course, there are those days!  But building the habit and intending to maintain it helps me reduce their number a great deal. (Also, we live in a tiny space, and there simply is no spare flat surface for dumping. We NEED the kitchen table for too many uses, so we have to keep an eye on the secondary dumping spots as well, which have a tendency to collect items moved quickly off the table. These locations---that space between the books and the next shelf, that corner of the desk in the next room---can collect unprocessed junk just as fast as any primary dumping spot. But the complete shortage of space certainly encourages better habits in managing the little we do have.)

This lack of follow-through can show up with dishes sitting in or near the sink, with laundry on the floor or near the laundry basket, with piles of items near the stairs waiting to go up or down (which we pass repeatedly without actually bringing them along). We have the intention to be tidier.  But we are missing some key step between our intention and our actual follow-through.  All too often the lack of follow-through results in a mound of neglected tasks still awaiting our attention. And as that mound grows to a mountain, the very size itself becomes a deterrent.

I don't think the lack of follow-through is necessarily laziness.  I think sometimes it is fueled by a habit of rushing, or perhaps it is some rebellious "I don't want to" left over from childhood.  Sometimes when I walk in the door, my brain decides I am "done" and I go straight to resting or playing, forgetting to finish the final steps of returning---the equivalent of the child repeatedly dropping the coat on the floor (though at age 57 I do at least hang up my coat). It is certainly a lack of mindfulness---not an immoral thing per se, but not something that benefits me either.  My auto-pilot just isn't very enlightened and I am often quite simply tired.

And yet it is when I am tired that staying present and completing the tasks of follow-through feel spiritual. Not only does it take mindful presence and a kind of surrender, but it also requires that I refuse to rush and to give my future self the gift of a clean and completed space.

There is some connection between good personal self-care and good care of our spaces. It is not linear or pure or black and white. Beautiful, wise, and creative people can be found inhabiting all sorts of spaces, from the very chaotic to the very ordered.

But for me, there is something spiritual about taking care of my surroundings, be they mine or simply a public washroom I may use. It feels like respect and care for the next person to enter the space.  It is an act of care for my future self at home and an act of care for some traveler whom I may never meet in the public space. They are connected for me. It is a way of living the Golden Rule, to show respect for the one who will follow me. It makes my soul feel good.

Follow-through. That thing the gym teacher harped on about. It turns out it is important in all parts of life, not just tennis or baseball.  Even if you are not interested in leaving the public washroom cleaner than you found it, do your own self the service of following through on intended tasks at home promptly. Don't leave them until "later" unless you are actually good at returning and finishing the job in a reasonable amount of time. (Several weeks is not a reasonable amount of time.)

And as you succeed and fail and succeed again, be kind to yourself.  This stumbling and wavering and returning to the plan again and again is exactly what the process looks like.

For the other entries in this series, see below.

Clutter Clearing as a Spiritual Practice - Part 1

Clutter Clearing as a Spiritual Practice - Part 2

The Silent Christmas - 2017

Dear friends and family, readers and companions along the way, Dec 2017

Those who know me well know I am not usually speechless.

When family plans proved no longer viable, Sam’s eyes twinkled as he invited me to spend Christmas Day in Atlantic City “with all the other soulless horrors” (who are the sorts of people who would go to a casino for Christmas). 

But we have no local church in which we are active. We would be missing no special services. So off we went.

On the bright side, I was delighted to be somewhere relaxing with Sam; somewhere where others do the cooking and cleaning, where the room is consistently warm, and hot water is a guarantee (unlike our apartment). I looked forward to swimming in the pool, going on long walks, and to hitting the outlet stores with Sam.

I did not count on profound laryngitis.

On Christmas Eve my voice was kinda cute and croaky. By Christmas morning, it was MIA. I could not make a peep. So also, no swimming. No long walks in the sub-zero temperatures, or even inside, as my tired body fought the infection. I rested in bed as Sam hit the outlet stores.

Nevertheless, this Christmas was full of joys and delights and many funny moments.

Sam hums when he’s busy. He hums when he’s packing, or preparing, or just generally content.

After an overly crowded Christmas Eve bus ride to Harrah’s (I rode next to a Trump supporter and managed civil and friendly conversation for two hours---thanks Dylan Marron!) we arrived. 

Sam hummed as we both unpacked. I found places for my various things, still chatting with my busy husband and didn’t notice until I looked up, finished, that the darling man had strung Christmas lights around a picture. And on the coffee table was a tiny pine tree bolstered by a blue blanket with one red ball hanging near the top. He had even thrown in a tiny nutcracker.

I exclaimed with delight at my thoughtful and imaginative husband. How did he think of these things? I never would have thought to bring decorations. He loves surprising me, and surprise me he did.

Before we caught the bus, he surprised me with a Christmas stocking. He had made one for each of us. They started with Christmas “Crackers”---a British/Canadian tradition usually part of a place setting. I squealed with delight as I snapped mine open, and we enjoyed our silly jokes and tiny toys with bright paper hats on our heads. Then we each got a scratch card---clever.

Next came two surprise toy bags or “blind bags” where one knows the general category but not the specifics of the tiny toy inside.  Again, clever boy. I got a tiny Buckbeak (from Harry Potter) and a tiny…something strange from a cartoon he follows. He got two tiny strange things and was delighted!

When we exchanged our gifts, I noticed how great Sam is at saying things like, “Oh…look at that.” “Isn’t that nice?” “Isn’t that something?” and spending real time and attention on each gift. I don’t think I do that. Now I want to be much more mindful when opening gifts.

So on to Christmas at Harrah’s with all the soulless horrors.

I noticed that, while I had some nostalgia and some twinges of loss, I didn’t mind that we had no Christmas service to attend.

I noticed that I did spend some time judging the people around me. I made up stories about how shallow they all must be and then felt superior and “better-than.” Judging them probably distracted me from judging myself for being at a casino over Christmas. 

Judgmental habits need to find things to judge---and it is far more comfortable to focus on judging outward than to judge oneself.  (Or, I could stop judging at all.)

Besides, when I looked inward, I was at peace.  I didn’t have a reason to judge myself, which then released any need to judge others. Hey presto! What a lovely Christmas gift.

But it was HARD not being able to communicate. I started carrying a notebook and pen. I typed stuff into my phone and held it up for others to read. I even tried Googling simple sign language, (as if anybody around me would know what I was trying to say).

It was fascinating how quickly people treated me as if I were deaf, even when I typed that I had laryngitis.  One person, when I was trying to communicate what I needed said, “Oh, bless your heart!” and started writing things out for me to read too.  A bartender apologized, saying he had taken a term of sign language but had forgotten all he learned. (Assuming I knew sign language.)  Within minutes, shopkeepers, bathroom attendants, and waitresses would start whispering or gesticulating around me---because that is what I was doing? Sam himself often became quiet, and told me it was hard to remember to speak at regular volume around me.

Sam and I were in line for over an hour for a buffet next to another couple. I noticed how rarely they looked at me, but looked primarily at Sam, because I never spoke. I wondered if that is what it is like for the quiet ones in a couple. Does the quiet one feel less visible? It was a fascinating psychological exercise.

          

                                      ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Meanwhile, HOW ARE WE?  

We are well!  After giving up at Starbucks---the bullying was intolerable and showed no signs of improving---Alison left and worked hard at building her wedding ministry and clutter clearing businesses.  

Much research revealed that nothing short of a full return to school to re-do most of her courses would satisfy New York’s Counselling certification, (they do not recognize “Theology” courses as counseling courses) so that avenue was not an option. The advertising expenses for the weddings was not covering the income, so she kept submitting resumes all over the place with little to no success.

Finally, a friend noticed that Mood Fabrics was hiring, so Alison tweaked her resume (again!) to highlight all her sewing experience, and after some back and forth, was hired by Philip Sauma himself, possibly because Alison is a pastor, but also because she was willing to serve where needed.

Within a short amount of time Alison has been helping the densely packed and richly stocked store relocate products for better visibility, create systems to better support inventory management, and make the customer and employee experiences easier and more intuitive.  She is so grateful to be trusted with the implementation of small changes, and tickled beyond measure at the gratitude and warmth of her coworkers. 

“I love working at Mood Fabrics. It is crazy and busy, but my fellow employees are hard-working and kind. I enjoy the variety of nationalities and abilities and that the store feels like a big family.  The owners are kind and my coworkers to date are thoughtful, hard working, and well-intentioned.”

Sam remains at Penguin Random House, receiving another raise, so even the tight money issues may eventually resolve, given careful stewardship by us both.

He seems to like being married.

 

It is Dec 29^th and I still cannot speak. I guess my voice needed a LONG vacation.

But I have so much to say!

I meditated on incarnation and “showing up” as I journeyed through this silent Christmas. I lay and dozed in the light of Sam’s Christmas lights, and felt safe and warm and full of gratitude for my miraculous husband. I reflected on how being present with “what is,” is the core of mindfulness. Not resistance, not preference, not even attempting to change or control the narrative---just accepting and working with “what is” can bring remarkable serenity and greater efficacy in the face of suffering. This sort of “showing up” has been increasingly what has enabled me to notice the blessings in my life---which are “Emmanuel” or where God is present with me.

Thank you for being one of the blessings in our lives. Thank you for reading all the way through this letter! May your new year be rich in growth and depth and spiritual blessings, and may we meet again soon, face-to-face.  

Alison and Sam Moore 

aka AliSam

BUT WAIT!!!!  How could I forget to mention one of the most important events of all in 2017?!

The birth of a new family member---a daughter for Eden and Aaron, who arrived January 10.  Andrea Katherine was born at home 5 days early with Eden's sister, Jennie, on hand to love and support her arrival. Being a grandmother is amazing. I love that child more than I knew was possible. She is surrounded by loving and wise family. My only wish, that I did not live 500 miles away. I include two pictures, one from when she was five days old, and one from this autumn. 

All the rest about her is her parents' right to share or keep private. 

She is a miracle.

Previous Christmas letters can be found here:
http://alisonlongstaffmoore.blogspot.com/2016/12/alisams-2016.html

https://cliffsidechapel.com/Christmas2015.htm

Finding Sam was a miracle. If that could happen, anything can!