Today, I clicked to Dictionary.com to look up the word order. It
seems like that's all I've been trying to do lately. I got a good chuckle out of the fifth definition of order as a noun and the sentence that was used as an example:
a condition in which each thing is properly disposedI find that trying to work (blog, write, follow-up on emails, process paperwork, pay bills...) are all delayed or unfulfilled if the area surrounding me is without order. Well, for that matter, if any area in my home is without out. As I sit here, about three rooms and one closet away from my bedroom, I can picture the disorder that awaits me. The too small/too big/too-not-gonna wear clothes of my four children that need to be organized, passed down and/or given away.
with reference to other things and to its purpose; methodical or harmonious arrangement: You must try to give order to your life.
I think I've spoke of this before, but I think it becomes even more important to me as I age. My mother once told me that her mother kept everything, but I would hesitate to call my grandmother a hoarder since that seems so negative. My mother, on the other hand, is a complete clean and organizational freak. (Oops, did I just call her a freak?)
I'll just have to apologize (but you better not tell her I said that!) and continue by explaining what I mean. I love the fact that our home was always clean and orderly when I was growing up. There was no clutter and nothing was ever out of place. Sometimes to an obsessive degree, but I can appreciate it.
What bothers me about it is that I believe she threw away stuff that to most people is important, i.e., the clothes that my paternal grandmother made for me when I was an infant. Everyone keeps mementos like that, right? I know it's important and something to cherish because the few things I have from my childhood hold special memories to me and my oldest daughter who I passed stuff down to.
Those things are even more important since that grandmother passed away in 2001. She was the last tie that I had to my father's family, which makes any of those possessions extra special.
Okay, back to what I was saying... I find maintaining order is like fuel to my muse. I have been putting construction paper on shoe boxes to hold crayons, markers and chalk that my children often have all over the place.
I still have to find a box large enough for the paint and paint supplies because right now everything is divided between two boxes and I don't like it like that.
I designated a clear storage box for my teenager's memories (like movie tickets, playbooks, etc.) that I often find laying on her desk, her dresser or in a random book.
I've even designated a box for magazines ready for recycling (now we can just pick up the box when it's full and dump it into the recycling thingy up the street) and a large storage container for arts, crafts, projects and scrapbooking supplies.
Now what I've done may not be all matchy-matchy or perfect like I would want it, but instead of waiting until I have money to buy all matching paper or perfectly matched storage boxes, I have been proactive in causing order. The very act of finding a home for all of these things is exciting and it lifts my spirits. I am hoping I can maintain this order so that I don't get behind on the things that are important like working and processing paperwork like bills. But, on the up side, I have found the key to not bogging my mind down and causing heaviness in my aura. Or cloudiness among my zen. Is it static in my brain? Oh no, I got it: Fuzziness of my muse.
That, my friends, is my muse for the moment. Wanna read my previous musey moments? Click here and here for the Monday's Muse home.