In honor of 2012 I decided it was time for another purge. I can't count how many times I have systematically gone through all of my possessions, getting rid of the things that no longer serve me and rearranging what's left so that the energy can flow better through my bigger, brighter space. It just feels so good...when it's all done.

I guess it had been a little too long since my last clutter clearing session, because I had completely forgotten how incredibly hard it is to go through your own stuff and let it go.

The day started out all wrong. After two coke zeros to energize me for a long drive through a snowstorm the night before, I had not slept well. I finally rolled out of bed, feeling like crap, but I was resolved: in order to get the new year started off right, I needed a good cleanse. So I got right to work...seriously, without even eating breakfast.

That was a mistake. After about an hour I was ready to fall over. I ate some oatmeal, reluctantly, and got back to work, working through each room of the house systematically until finally the day was over. I had a fabulous pile of donations and recycling ready to leave through the front door. The bags and boxes filled up my car. Technically, it had been a successful day...

...I still felt terrible. Whatever I was expecting to feel when it was all over (relieved? satisfied? relaxed?) was not how I was feeling! Not even close. I couldn't stop thinking about how many items I had held in my hands, knowing I hadn't worn that dress in over a year and probably never would again, acknowledging that those books from college were no longer interesting to me...and yet I had hung on. Inside my spirit there was a raging conflict between two feelings:

1. a powerful desire for change, freshness, letting go, new beginnings, and wide open space for maximum potential and explosive creation.

2. there is also profound gratitude for my life exactly as it is, perfect in all its imperfections, with an abundance of good things and silly things and awesome memories and potential.

It actually took a second day of work to feel satisfied with my home and ready to embrace 2012. Day 2 involved a massive rearrangement of the space and everything in it. The biggest challenge was a shocker: I was still hanging onto a self-sabotaging belief that I didn't deserve as much space as I wanted! Bullshit! So I've claimed it. Check out this photo of my expansive new home office and go claim your own space. Let your home be the skeleton for the life you want to live.

I am about to delve into one of the concepts that is hardest to explain about the work I do helping people feel more organized every day! Check it out.

I recently had the enormous privilege of attending a meeting of HELLO (Homeless Experts Living Life’s Obstacles) in Chicago. That’s right: youth. These were teenagers and young adults living on the streets of the very city I have lived in for over a decade. I admit I was totally nervous and way outside my comfort zone. Even though I like to think of myself as a compassionate person who values service above all else, I’m struggling to imagine my life without my home.

These young people were astounding. As I looked around at their faces there was nothing that distinguished them from me. I could have passed them by on the street without a second thought, and yet each and every one of them had a lifetime of painful memories and more than a lifetime supply of courage.

How do you strike up a conversation with someone so incredible? What could I say? "Hey, how are you? What’ve you been up to lately?"

They might have said, “surviving”.

Survival is not something I ever have to think about, especially when it comes to shelter. What would it be like to be on your feet all day with no idea where you will be able to sleep or rest in safety or cmofort? What would it be like if you could only keep what you could carry? One young man put it perfectly: “When you’re on the street, it’s like the whole city, the whole world is your living room.”

I can’t help but reconsider a lot of the beliefs about home and space and clutter and organization that I’ve spent a lot of time developing and teaching to others. At the end of the day maybe it’s best to express some sincere heartfelt gratitude for the comfort and security of having a home, a place to rest, to keep our pettiest possessions. As I listened to the youth share their experiences, I saw signs that said, “Housing is a human right.” But it’s also an incredible luxury. Let’s treat it that way.
*The best way to learn more from these young people while offering them the support they deserve is by purchasing a book of their poetry here:

I just bought my copy, and I invite you to cut yourself some slack this week: if disorganization is causing you stress, give thanks for all that you have, and read this book instead of worrying.

            I am spending the weekend in silence with a group of Quakers. It’s remarkable. Without verbal communication THERE IS SO MUCH ROOM, TO THINK, TO BE, TO CREATE. It is a relief be HERE, in silence. As I’ve said before, getting away causes the excess to melt.

            We live in such a noisy world, and we add to that noise unconsciously. As we sat in a circle this morning to center ourselves there were noises everywhere, and they were loud!

            “How is this possible?” I thought. “We left the city to enter into silence, and yet…” Geese were honking, kids were playing, basketballs were bouncing, and the refrigerator was running, doors slamming, shoes squeaking. The cacophony seemed to be building until finally we all just laughed, and privately we wondered about the meaning of silence. Does it truly exist?

            I have had stupid songs playing in my head almost constantly between, and sometimes during meditations today. Even though I haven’t spoken a word in 24 hours, my brain is FULL of them. On a walk with my boyfriend I made fun of my own failed attempts to tell him a joke using gestures, wondering a little too late why I had felt the need to communicate anything beyond a loving squeeze of his hand.

            In my apartment at home I keep a room as empty as possible. There are beautiful things hanging on the walls, an altar in one corner, and a closet full of stuff, but it still looks EMPTY. I love that room because it offers me a sort of physical silence, as if the excess of objects in other rooms made noise. (Come back next week to see a photo of this room along with the rest of my apartment!)

            There have been very few moments today when I thought it might be useful to speak. Most of them were related to trivial things like ‘I think she’s still using that spoon,’ or ‘Maybe you could put your hat over there,’ or ‘I agree the cheesecake was good.’ And then there was another moment when we were all eating together, and I thought how easy it would be to make myself heard if I spoke out of the silence – how my voice would resonate, how easy it would be to stand out. It’s the difference between a single note on the desktop instead of piles and piles of paper files – it matters so much more.

            I talk a lot, normally, just because I can, or because silence seems to make people uncomfortable, or because there are trivial details that need to be sorted out. Now I’m wondering, do I waste words? Can I narrow it down? How would this affect my life? Language is a type of clutter. I was never aware of it until now. I’ve sought an escape from noise before, but in many ways this silent retreat is the loudest of all because I am truly listening. I HEAR EVERYTHING. And there is more clearing that needs to be done, always.

    In The Four Agreements Don Miguel Ruize says, “Be impeccable with your word.” I think I'm starting to get it.