Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Declutter. The removal of unwanted objects. The expulsion of the riff-raff from one's home. Getting rid of those hangers-on that try to pretend they belong in your life but really you've just been too busy to give them the heave-ho. What a way to share living space---with a bunch of dusty, junky, torn, broken, half-working, outdated, outmoded, corroded, rusted, busted, useless, or in-fine-shape-but-just-plain-dumb STUFF. Can I really purge all this extraneous and tiresome material from my life? Why do I believe the voices that tell me I can't? "It's never been done," they say. "Not by you." Oh yeah, well, I'll show those know-it-all voices. I'll trim my surroundings good. Out with the flotsam and jetsam floating around me, as if I were a stranded shipwrecked soul treading water. No, I am a goddess of light and space, and light and space and empty, echoing rooms I shall have. With only a candle to burn. And a small book of matches. Believe it.