Let it go

For some reason I can't shake the feeling that my life is cluttered right now. As I sit here typing this post, there sits upon my desk: a camera, my journal, dictionary, a book of poetry, a stack of ledgers, letters, and papers, a book on freelance writing, a book on law for writers and artists, the September issue of Texas Monthly magazine, the instruction manual for my camera, a stack of papers that need revising/editing, two bags of trail mix, and one rumbling and purring cat. Oh, and as he stirs, I find a calculator and a number of pens hidden beneath his expanse.

And what do I do with all this mess? So far I've let it build. Any attempts to cull the hoard has proven itself short lived. But after observing this practice for the majority of my short life, I've come to realize how much better I feel when it's gone. There is a lightness, a freedom. It's like cleaning out the closet during the spring rains. The cleansing makes a space and the spaces are light, and lightness is happy, unlike the burdensome weight carried by the need to store and collect.

I've always wanted to know what it feels like to have a clean closet. I mean an impeccably clean, spotless, near empty closet, wherein only a few shirts hang and a box or two sit upon the shelves. It sounds liberating, even exhilarating. And why wait? Why continue to torment myself by hanging on to all the excess baggage? That's what it's all about really. Physical baggage is spiritual baggage. There is no difference between the two. One manifests itself as the other, and once we decide to drop some weight we are instantly happier, so why do we insist on hanging on to it in the first place?