When Aristophanes proclaimed himself a "Tawny-Headed-DemiGod" after completing his final push to sort and clear out the remnants of clutter from his place, I started thinking. There was a subtle change in our conversations and a lightness that surfaced which was not previously apparent.
Then I started noticing.
All the stuff that has accumulated over the last 5 + years here in DC.
I was just going to start with a box. One box.
It was that box (that probably everyone has or had at one point), filled with extraneous / superfluous cables and wires that go to nameless electronics delicately bundled like a rat's nest. My rationalization, if I needed a cable I could always go to RadioShack.
To get to the box, I had to pull* everything out of my hallway closet.
That was the closet full of crap that broke the camel's back, armed with a healthy dose of pop music and kitted out in shorts, tank-top and bandanna in my hair - I was a woman on a mission. A whirling tornado of a dervish. One and a half days, 8 garbage bags, 2 packing boxes of trash, 3 loads of laundry, and 13 cups of tea later:
I can see the floor in all of my closets.
My apartment feels fresher.
I feel much less encumbered.
I feel drained. I feel rapturous.
I'm not going to deny it, going though some stuff was hard. It never ceases to amaze me at how much emotional stock a piece of paper or a dried flower from 10 years ago or an empty chocolate tin can carry. All this stuff that we and others put weight on, place emotion and value on, really do become a burden.
Really, it's all just stuff. Nothing more. Nothing less.
On the phone with Aristophanes last night, he asked me: How does a designer know their piece is completed?
Aristophanes: A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away. It was Saint-Exupery who said that.
Me: (pause) Yes. I can see that now...
There's still a lot left to be done, but this all happens slowly and in it's own time -
opening the way for more experiences.
This, my friends, is only the beginning.
*pull is loosely defined as topple here.