I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “uncomplicate,” my Zen breathing kicks in. No, really. The mere sound of the word suggests reprieve, relief – a welcome unburdening. We humans have a way of complicating things. All manner of things: our homes, possessions, finances and, dare I say, our relationships. All manner of things. We don’t mean to, but life tends to pile on until we step in to reconsider.
It’s not just about decluttering, which can seem like such an onerous Olympic-sized chore. We know we should, we don’t want to, we start, we stop, we give up. We feel defeated by the enormity of it all and give up. I hear you; I really do.
The other day, I had an experience that technically could be considered “decluttering” but was driven by a different desire: to uncomplicate. It all started when I was rummaging for lipstick. I reached for the Ziploc bag with the light shades. No luck. Then I reached for the bag with the dark shades, still no luck. With the awareness of approaching defeat, I dug into the lip glosses and still came up empty-handed. My self-talk got on a serious roll, chastising me for this veritable archive of lip stuff, most of which had clearly seen better days – make that years.
This is WAY too complicated.
How much time have I spent on this already?
Way too much.
Right.
After the self-directed mea culpa, I got busy organizing and tossing tube after tube on my way to the uncomplicated, to keeping it easy and simple.
I feel lighter.
What’s next?
The Tupperware – or whatever it’s called these days.
I have to say that the Tupperware dive was even more gratifying than the lipstick raid! It required leaning, half-prone on the kitchen floor to first dig out the multitude of plastic, microwaveable, freezable mish mosh of lids no bottoms and bottoms no lids. My kitchen floor looked like a nursery room montage of safe toys. What followed was like assembling a puzzle, matching tops to bottoms and wondering where in the world some of these things came from. In the end, I tossed half of them. Half! I smugly matched up the disparate pieces, found an accessible home for each and plopped my strained bottom on a proper kitchen chair. You go girl!
You might refer to these two high energy sprees as decluttering marathons. And, in a way, they were. But, the impetus wasn’t a half-baked New Year’s resolution or a guilt trip about the need to declutter; it was more motivating than that, more fundamental. It was driven by a desire to uncomplicate in a way that would reduce unnecessary fuss and stress in my day-to-day life.
I like this framing; it works for me. The next time I go looking for The Canterbury Tales or Pride and Prejudice in this stacked pile or that, I’ll be inclined to uncomplicate, to simplify. To make even that area of my life easy.
