Can You Hear Me Now

Amidst one’s daily clutter, one doesn’t usually reflect on the splendor of being free because – naturally – one has to get on with the business of living.

Upamanyu Chatterjee

Linda and I moved into our three story Victorian house (or barn as I often call it) in the winter of 1998. I remember it to be a very cold January day. The air temperature hovered around 20 degrees below zero and the sidewalks were coated in a sheet of ice. Unlike our previous moves where we relied on the kindness (legs, arms, and backs) of friends and relatives, we hired a couple of guys who loaded and transported most of the big stuff in a fairly large truck. While that certainly helped, we still had to make multiple trips from the old house to the new. Needless to say, it was an all day affair.

I can unabashedly say that I love my house, but after 30 years we’ve let a few things slide. Although we have been pretty good about tackling the big, structural projects, we’ve learned to live with some of the aging cosmetic aspects. After a while, you stop seeing the faded paint on the walls and the scratches in the wood floors. As I have done with the older version of me, I accept that the house doesn’t look like she once did and I don’t get all bent out of shape about it.

However, there are a few things that have started to annoy me. Case in point are the kitchen cabinets. We put them in around 25 years ago and after three teenage boys and lots of wear and tear, they were starting to look pretty shabby. So, in parallel with last week’s cabin opening, Linda and I hired two carpenters to sand, stain, and varnish away all those years of family living. We knew it would be a stinky, messy job and didn’t want to be around while it was happening.

Of course, all the work didn’t fall on Ricardo and his son Victor. Prior to their arrival, we needed to remove everything from the cabinets and countertops. Since there are three layers of cabinets, it was a pretty big job and most of the heavy lifting and step stool climbing fell on me.

I don’t mind menial work, though, and after a few days of effort, I filled our dining room and back porch with boxes of plates, bowls, pots, pans, glasses, silverware, utensils, kitchen gadgets, and just plain stuff.

Communism doesn’t work because people like to own stuff. Frank Zappa

In the process, I quickly came to the realization that we have way too much of that just plain stuff. I took out so much junk that we haven’t touched in decades — I won’t mention the expired food items. Although I uncovered a few lost gems, most of it was simply clutter and I quickly realized that one quarter to one third of it was not going back into our renewed cabinets.

Character Clutter

If you have been following along with my blog since its beginning, you are aware the I am in a 12-step program and have often written about the steps. Last year, I published an examination of Step Four in A Thorough and Fearless Inventory for the Masses. I laid out the approach I took to do a deep dive into my good, bad, and ugly character traits. Since then, I have personally shared the article with other folks so they might apply it to their inventory journeys. The feedback has all been positive.

All through the hours of pulling things from the cabinets, I could not help but think that I was performing a Fourth Step on my kitchen. There is no doubt that I was being thorough and fearless. This was a very mindful exercise physically as well as emotionally.

Tiny lights along highway
petite illuminations of the diminutive kind
the careful placement of absence
juxtaposed against a backdrop of plenty
scarcity married to rich abundance

Who sees the strength in these minuscule numbers
who looks beyond the clutter of misinterpretations
and misguided expectations

Me
that’s who

After the cabinet refinishing was complete, I did the work of the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Steps by consulting with Linda on the keep-no-keep decisions and repeatedly asking for the courage to say “No.” Not a single thing went back into a cabinet or drawer until it had been examined and pondered over.

Some decisions were very simple while others were quite a bit more pained. I tend to be a sentimental guy (to a fault) and there were a number of occasions where I chose to part with something that held strong nostalgic meaning, but little value kitchen wise. Granted, most of those things I had not seen or thought of in years, but that didn’t make the decisions any easier. The heart feels what the heart feels and logic often plays no part.

Sometimes you make the right decision, sometimes you make the decision right. Phil McGraw

In the end, I asked myself, “what is the purpose of keeping this thing” and anything that didn’t measurably enhance my life was given or thrown away. I am pleased to say that more often than not, I made the right decision.

Going Forward

As with any important choice in life, the follow-up is just as important as the initial decision. Moving on, I hope to continually remind myself of what I just went through and think hard the next time I feel the urge to tuck something away for future use. I need to ask myself, “What future and what use?” If the answers are unclear or forced, toss it. It doesn’t need to be kept. This applies to kitchen gadgets and character traits.

My life, like my cabinets, has no use for clutter.

Your turn. What is the ignored clutter in your life? Are you ready to face the music and get down to the hard work of boxing and tossing? It’s never too late to roll up your sleaves and get started. If this sentimental fool can do it, so can you.

Thank you for reading.

No longer do I wait for crumbs and hand-me-downs
the castoff rejections of those who pick and choose
with privileged hands and eyes
no longer do I stand at the back of the line
envious of those who dare to step forward

To be seen for who I am
and not the one I am presumed to be
to be heard above the din and clutter
of sameness and conformity

This is my call
my beckon
this is the celebration of the dazzle of daybreak in me