Back a few years ago, the craziness of the cardinal climax (an astrological period) catapulted me from a lethargic state of stuck to an adrenaline-fever of cleaning house, decluttering, packing, pitching stuff, emptying closets.
Day 20
Day 20 of this mad race against time...There I was, emptying out the tomb-like bowels of the Narnia-land closet under my basement stairwell. I don't even remember what's under there. 15 years slipped by somehow. Where did 15 years go?
(A few days later, the real estate sales deal of my place fell through...thankfully, because long-term adrenaline is not a pretty sight on one's body.)
I look around my home:
The basement storage closet: The closet is cluttered with holiday decorations, golf clubs, Halloween costumes, old yearbooks, broken record players...I pulled them all out from under the stairs. Oh, how can I part with my Rosanna-Danna costume? Or my Harpo Marx costume? And oh my, the downtown magazine took my photo as I came down the red carpet that night of a trendy Halloween party when I was dressed as Carmen Miranda. My headpiece was elegant, just as so many of Carmen Miranda's headpieces were.
The Garage Sale
The garage sale was a flop.After closing up the failed sale, my garage was filled with...stuff, memories, junk, what I thought were treasures, dusty old relics. It took nine hours to pull all that stuff out of my home. Now what?
I repented of being a pack-rat. I asked forgiveness for wasted dollars. I cried tears of regret when pulling out old photos, throwing away another holiday ornament from another holiday;s unknown year. I had not decorated the house for the holidays in 10 years. So, why is it so difficult to give up the fluffy snowman, the figurine carolers, the amber lights?
Why do I keep this stuff? I might need it...? I detect my own fear...my own want for comfort...fearing I might not have enough...enough what? LOVE! Did I read too many self-help books?
Day 23
It's night number 23 in the race against time...right after the real estate selling deal of my home fell through. I'm bagging up any useful items for a donation truck in the morning. "Oh, someone will love these treasures," I am hoping, pushing the bags out the door. The last item to go out of the house: The pink trunk.There it sits: The PINK TRUNK. I cry.
Rusty hinges. Old flaked paint. Spider webs. Dirt. The pink trunk is not cute...it's filthy. It stinks like an old damp musty basements, old attics, and who knows where else it has been through the generations of drama. The pink trunk of my childhood...retrieved from an attic two years ago; hidden in an attic for 33 years when a family member lived abroad. (He now lives in heaven somewhere, and I hope he's busy helping the rest of us through this cardinal climax era of craziness.)
I Cry Some More
The pink trunk reminds me of being a child.
Where did that child go? Where did the fun go? How did I lose the fun? When did I abandon the fun? When did I forget?
I cry more.
So many of my family have gone to the other side. So few of us are left on this side of the veil.
The ugly pungent trunk prompts me to cry even more.
Then...Clarity
The sweet light and airy CLARITY flashes like fresh air...like a fairy muse.... like a butterfly landing on my shoulder: Here is a reward for decluttering -- Getting rid of the pink trunk! (The pink trunk contains an unpleasant story in a young child's history.) The pink trunk is creepy and so is it's legacy.The damn wretched pink trunk should be burned or dumped into a volcano like a sacrifice to appease the gods...donating it is too kind!
This is the creepy dirty pink trunk -- that tried to suffocate my sister!
That sarcophagus of evil that tattooed its traumatic scar upon the flesh of my sister's trust. That phobia inducing vault whose venom paralyses like an Egyptian curse...may you be purged from our family heritage in this cleansing of my life. May the sword of energy vanquish your power once and for all. May the chi of my awakening feng shui banish you to your own tomb of forgetfulness.
May the sisterhood of two women grow deeper and become as strong as the winds of change!
May the clarity of the lesson of the pink trunk awaken every corner of this woman's dwelling: Purge and pitch. May the letting go of old stuff awaken every cell in every city of my body, and every intention of my heart.
Yes, there are rewards to be gained from letting go, purging old stuff, purposely changing one's life!
.JPG)
