Noticing
As above, so below.
As within, so without.
As the Universe, so the Soul.
~ Hermes Trismegistus
Frieda came flying in, and she looked flustered. She slammed the door behind her, kicked off her shoes — which went sailing across the room — dropped to her knees, slumped to the floor, sprawled out like a starfish, and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Frieda?” I asked gently.
No response.
“Frieda?”
“Hmmmmm…”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t do it anymore. I’m exhausted,” she whimpered.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“How can I help?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Would you like to just lie there for a while and do nothing?”
“Is that an option?”
“It is.”
“Then, yes.”
This wasn’t my first encounter with frazzled Frieda. About a year prior she had contacted me to organize her garage. During the two-day project, Frieda zipped around like she was on fire. With her phone constantly in her hand, I couldn’t help but notice she never ignored a ring, ping, beep, or text. It was as if her phone had become an extension of her and she jolted after every hit. Frieda was furious with the somebody who forgot to take the garbage to the curb — although she wasn’t exactly sure who that somebody was, she was miffed — had fast food delivered twice, and spent over an hour looking for a hair clip and a notebook she swore she left right there. Keeping her focused on the project was trying. She had every explanation — and I’ve heard them all — about why her garage was a disaster — her words not mine — consistently negotiated on why she needed to keep the majority of her items and challenged most of my suggestions.
Although we eventually got her garage “organized,” I felt I had failed Freida.
I had started where I always start: Outline the vision, purpose, and function for the space, which, at the time was simply her wanting to park her car in it and be able to access her holiday decorations. At the end of our two days, she was as pleased as punch that her garage was now glorious. So, yes, I had technically met her expectations, but after spending time with Freida and noticing her tactics, I knew we had only peeled back the top layer. We had left the second layer intact, that often-messy layer that protects the emotions and feelings attached to the stuff and the state of the space. The layer that quite often holds the shame, guilt, and fear associated with the overconsumption, being tethered to the past, and all the feelings we experience when we just can’t seem to get our sh*t together.
So, yes, her car was in, she currently knew where everything was, it was tidy, and it was labeled. Check, check, check.
And the space was clear.
But Frieda wasn’t.
Frieda was distracted and didn’t want to talk about habits and the rhythms of her home. She couldn’t wouldn’t slow down long enough to consider my recommendations on the importance of on-going maintenance. At this stage, she wasn’t interested in looking at the big picture of her home and how it was functioning — or not functioning. She was struggling financially — and frequently mentioned the cost of my services— but wasn’t ready to adjust her spending habits, or contemplate creating a budget, or get curious about what the operating expenses were for her home, which were all major contributors to her home being in disarray.
If Freida would’ve slowed down long enough she may have noticed that the six boxes labeled memorabilia — that she insisted on keeping which were blocking access to what could have been an optimal storage space — were actually boxes of rabbit pellets, and Frieda hadn’t had a rabbit since 2007.
I noticed her home was a reflection of her internal chaos, but Freida didn’t.
Still lying on the floor but now with her eyes closed, Frieda whispered, “Do you remember last year when we organized the garage?”
“Yes.”
“I loved it.”
“I’m glad.”
“It doesn’t look like that anymore, and I’m embarrassed.”
“That happens sometimes.”
“I can’t stay organized. I’m flawed.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
Easing her way up and sitting against the wall, she let out a resigned sigh and said, “I feel like I’m unwell.”
Finally… I had Freida’s attention.
“I don’t think organization is your issue. As a matter of fact, let’s forget the word organize and replace it with arrange. Our homes should be an arrangement of intentional belongings we’ve deemed necessary to help us get where we’re trying to go at particular times of our lives. Because we’re consistently growing and changing, our homes need to consistently grow and change right along with us. And if we aren’t clear on where it is we’re trying to go, it’s challenging to make informed decisions about the things we should be surrounding ourselves with to help us get there. It’s like trying to go on a road trip without a map. When we aren’t clear, in both our hearts and minds, we end up carrying not only a bunch of excess stuff in our homes, but a lot of excess feelings that consequently drain physical and mental vitality causing exhaustion.
After a few moments, Frieda responded, “I can’t stop thinking about how much money I’ve wasted. I thought I would be further ahead by now. My life feels so… disjointed and… noisy. I want to be well. And I want my home to be well too. Where do I even start?”
“You begin by taking more moments to simply do nothing.
You begin by noticing.”
Practice Noticing:
Take a walk and begin noticing little things outside in our natural world. Sit with a tree. Pick some berries. Arrange some flowers. Notice how you feel reconnecting with your body.
Begin noticing the words you use to describe yourself. Words cast spells. (Which is why it’s called spelling.) Begin by reframing the words you use as descriptors for yourself. Instead of saying I’m flawed or I’m disorganized, try saying I’m safe; I live with beauty. Speak about the life you dream of as if it’s already occurred.
Begin noticing how you feel when you cross the threshold to enter your home. Do you look forward to coming home knowing it’s the place you can exhale and relax or do you feel like even more stress is waiting for you when you arrive? Consider what adjustments you can make to the entrance that can make it more inviting.
Write some intentions for what you wish to invite into your home and leave it under your front door mat. Write as if it’s already happened. For example: This house if full of light, happiness, peace, and love. All who enter bring with them kindness and contentment. All who leave here leave with joy and hope and carry that with them to share with others. Notice how this makes you feel.
Begin noticing contrasts in your home. Look through the lens of Yin and Yang which is simply the rhythm of movement from one energy into the other. Everything in our home carries either restful (Yin) energy or active (Yang) energy. Yin is passive energy and can be expressed through dark colors, cool tones, dim lights, soft bedding, or a cozy reading chair. Yin is rest and stillness. Yin is the moon. Yang is active energy and can be expressed through vibrant colors, large windows, bright lights, geometric patterns, and mirrors. Yang is the sun. Simply begin to notice if you have one expressed more than the other. (Ideally bedrooms have more Yin energy for rest and rejuvenation, whereas a family room or kitchen ideally has more Yang energy for activity and motion.)
Begin noticing your spending habits. Do you plan ahead for purchases or do you find yourself shopping and spending to get a hit of the feel-goods only to be later swallowed up by shame and regret? Take the time to write down the intentional purchases you may make for the month, notice if they are needs or wants, and try giving yourself 30 days of not buying anything other than these preplanned agreed-upon necessities. Begin to notice what it feels like to build a self-control muscle. (Which may feel weak at the beginning, but I promise you it will get stronger.)
Begin noticing how your clothes truly make you feel when you put them on. Wear the clothes you haven’t worn for a while. If wearing them makes you feel like a confident badass, keep them and incorporate them more into your rotation. If you put them on and you feel like a frump or a sad slouch, please let them go. We need more confident badasses than frumpy sad slouches. Stop negotiating with yourself about how much you spent or why they still have tags. Notice how. you. feel. Notice how your closet begins to feel like a kind and gentle friend rather than an intimidating adversary.
Begin a practice of recognizing you are art in action. Every day you have opportunities to turn creative impulses into living expressions. Notice if your home is supporting your life force and creativity. Begin realizing that your stuff, and all that you’ve surrounded yourself with, is either getting you closer to happiness or it’s not.
I recently crossed paths with Frieda as she was dropping off donations at a local thrift shop. As she rounded the corner, I noticed she looked… lighter.
“Frieda, it’s nice to see you.”
“Thanks. Just so you know, this is my third load this week!”
“Wow! Good for you. I’m really glad to hear that,” I replied. “You seem… well.”
“I feel better than well. I feel… free.”