I have regularly suffered fits of despair when the accumulation of physical stuff becomes unbearable. I get mad at myself for letting it become overwhelming. I get mad at my husband and children because they do not share my passion for order. I get mad at well-meaning family who send toys to the kids for birthdays and holidays (how awful of them!). I get mad at teachers for sending home millions of pages of writing, artwork, and projects that require saving.

This year after noticing (and despairing) that we had moved a lot of clutter with us into the new house, I finally decided to do something about it. I got the book (I borrowed it, from the library!) Clear Your Clutter With Feng Shui by Karen Kingston… here I found complete and total validation for the way I feel about clutter. Friends and visitors will say ‘your house is not messy’ but I literally feel the stuck energy of clutter. It clouds my psyche, weighs down my spirit, blocks my creativity, keeps me in an addictive pattern of get stuff – notice stuff – despair stuff – clean stuff up – get stuff….

First I read the book. Second I asked my husband to read it. Which he did, and now he gets me. Hallelujah! I’m no longer a neat-freak lunatic in his eyes (at least, not about this). He knows what I’m envisioning is peace of mind, and flow in our lives. Flow of love, abundance, connection. Third, we began to work. Slowly, deliberately, over the past four weekends we have made progress: Three carloads to Goodwill, vinyl collection (except a few rare favorites) to the record store, an old unused camera to consignment, a small collection of items for Craigslist, moving boxes (finally!) picked up from our garage by a local shop owner.

Parents, guess what? You won’t believe this but the kids love it! Our six-year-old cried at first and then helped, and got really excited about how pretty her room looks, she is keeping it up. Our eleven-year-old said after waking up that his room ‘felt lighter, more airy.’ Together we went through the toy bins, threw away broken items and took three more boxes to Goodwill.

Other benefits. Weekend one, my husband found lost checks and rebates that added up to $675 dollars! I’m releasing items and emotions I’ve held onto for far too long, like the teapot I got when I married my first husband which has been on display forever, but never really was my style. Then there is this surge of energy. There are two types of holiday cookie dough in the freezer… I have never begun holiday baking so early.

Luckily, our tradition is to put up the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve and leave it up for twelve days. I still have a couple weeks then, just a couple places left to clear, final dusting and vacuuming and I can get out the holiday décor. Hmmmm…. Wonder how many boxes of ornaments I can get us down to?

January for me often seems to hold tremendous energy. Perhaps it is the newness of the year, the resolutions and intentions that carry such a powerful force. As January ended, my enthusiasm waned. And old habits creeped back in. Most notably, my old pattern of anxiety returned. Noticing the quickening pace through the spring – I was craving slowness again and feeling exhausted from the busy-ness that my life was returning to.

And so planning for the summer ensued – the summer of 2008 was to be a slow summer. Picture this, kids at home, morning walks with them and the dog, leisurely lunches, time for me to write as they enjoyed reading, blowing bubbles, watching an occasional movie…. Now, anyone with children knows what a fantasy-world I was living in! It did not play that way. Yet, as with all challenges, this one carried (and carries still – it’s only July!) many insights and calls to change. My kids (ages 4 and 10) have no intention of lazing about – but prefer (of course) to involve me in their play, as they should. And I have been able to see how difficult this is for me. I love my ‘little chickens’ – and I love the work that I do. My work, I found, was revived by the space I had given it – and I’ve experienced a boon of creative energy which I not felt before. But the kids were taking a back seat.

At the same time, the writing project had unearthed some very deep-seated fears. Anxious (again) about the ‘success’ of the project, I procrastinated like a teenage version of myself – but I was writing….. journaling every morning, drafting text for my website, exploring blog topics. I was painfully plodding through my writing project.

Enter slowness. This summer I am allowing space. When I feel anxiety – I am feeling it, not burying it. I am sharing it with the friends and family who support me unconditionally. I give myself opportunities to nurture my inner-most needs. And one of these needs shows up as reading. Anyone who knows me in any capacity has heard me mention the work of Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way and The Right to Write. Julia’s work is a lifeline for me. In these past weeks I found new insight into how I use procrastination, anxiety, and the resulting adrenalin as a crutch to get me through difficult times (like high-school term-papers, passing college exams, meeting business deadlines). I am practicing the art of ‘begin where you are’ which means to sit and write, period. No matter that I don’t have the first sentence complete in my mind or any idea of the direction it will take. I have discovered by following Julia’s guidance, that what happens when I ‘just do it’ (Nike must have known this) is magical. When I relinquish control of the outcome, but keep the daily practice of returning to the page (and forgoing self-criticism), ideas flourish and what comes through my fingers is better than I could have planned for.

It is the end of July. My daughter is thrilled with the art camp she attends for three hours every afternoon. The kids and I have made time for some mini-adventures during our mornings. We’ve cancelled outings that did not allow for this space. And I am no longer plodding through my writing project – but am rediscovering the fun of it. Slow is not always slow – but slow allowed space to see what I was missing – I was missing the joy of writing.