Return to the Sacred Home
“In the end, just three things matter:
How well we have lived.
How well we have loved.
How well we have learned to let go.”
~ Jack Kornfield
I invite you to grab a cup of something warm and sit with me for a few minutes.
Over the years, I’ve aspired to share stories that inspire you to contemplate your environment and notice how your surroundings impact you. My messages are intended to be a catalyst for hope and offer an opportunity to observe your belongings through a new lens. My wish is to reassure you that you don’t need to spend a single cent to invite harmony and order into your life. My goal is to share what I’ve learned through client interactions which includes bearing witness to their challenges, and hopefully, ultimately, assist them in creating the space they’ve been looking for. And, as there is no denying the rhythms of the natural laws of our universe and how they model fluidity and perpetual change, I will continue to rely on their influence to partner with me and serve as my methodology and medium.
I often carry the weight of my clients’ struggles with me long after I leave their spaces. Their circumstances have been known to stay with me while I ask myself: How did we get here? How can I do better? Why are so many of our homes in turmoil?
Friends, women are crying just thinking about going into their closets. Seniors are gutted because they’ve waited too long to make decisions about their stuff, the hauler has arrived, and if they would’ve just had a little more time, they could’ve gotten some good money for it! Families are drowning in debt, often don’t know what’s for dinner, and feel ill-equipped to manage their households. Couples are missing opportunities to have real conversations about the dreams they have for their lives, formulating a budget, strategizing, and outlining a plan to actually get them there.
Every day I see the desire for change woven within their walls. The exercise equipment, the organizing books, the stacks and piles that get moved from one location to another but never quite get disassembled or completed. The bins, the baskets, the totes that say save me, keep me, please put a lid on all of this and arrange me in some type of order. All symbols of hope that express a desire for transformation yet competing with the underlying pull to accumulate, collect, and save.
Open tabs, open loops, scampering from task to task while the walls close in. We buy more stuff to contain all the stuff and attempt to make sense of all the stuff without first taking a pause from all the stuff in order to get clear and ask — and wait for the answer — two honest and simple questions: Why am I here? What do I want?
When our world feels uncertain and unpredictable, we tend to want to hold on to the familiar. When we’re scared, we can cling to our stuff like an emotional security blanket of what was or what we thought would be. When our circumstances have changed through loss, past roles, relationships, or simply outgrowing a chapter of our lives, it can feel scary to let go of the items that represent proof of our contributions or validate our existence. Our items often say, I did this. My actions mattered. I did something of value. I contributed. We often hold onto our stuff because it anchors us to someone we once were, and we were comfortable with that person, and that person feels safe and familiar, and if we hold onto the stuff from that time, we can somehow hold onto the feeling of that era or experience. Tangible evidence that proves we were here.
We’re taught to strive for the finish line, complete tasks, check off to-dos. We’re taught if we try hard and do all the right things, we will get there. But I think most of us are still looking for there. Where exactly is it? Nobody seems to know. Because, as I’m learning more and more, life isn’t linear. It’s crooked and messy and painful and beautiful. And along the journey, we accumulate all sorts of things that represent our accomplishments, whether we’re proud of them and want to display them… or not.
I think we’re here because the messaging is inaccurate and we’ve lost sight of the sacred and the authentic and have gotten swept away seeking shortcuts and quick solutions. We’re here because someone has a product to sell us that is going to fix it. We’re here because we thought if we stuffed it in a box and put a label on it and hung onto it until the end of time, it would all, eventually, make sense. I think we’re here because we’re told to tackle clutter, to conquer it, and to finally just once and for all organize it rather than getting real with who we are as individuals, reflecting on our journey, sitting with the stuff that we’ve ultimately ended up with and pausing to consider if it’s encouraging our current selves to grow and move closer to happiness.
Why are you here?
What do you want?
The substance of your life is larger than anything that can be contained to a box. You are a living, breathing, evolving individual who requires and deserves safe, supportive, and healthy living conditions. Imagine you’re a plant. (Which you kind of are.) You need sunlight, water, and a purposefully prepared patch of space to freely grow, devoid of rocks, weeds, and debris. With the proper conditions and deliberate attention focused on the care of your genus, you can create a foundation on which you are most likely to blossom into something extraordinary.
I’m hopeful for our homes. I believe that with all the chaos and uncertainly brewing on the outside, we are turning back in. Turning away from the noise and excess and realizing that just because we can, doesn’t always mean we should. I believe we are in the midst of an awakening. I believe there is something stirring inside of us that is craving a return to the simple, the basic, the sacred. I believe that by turning away from some not-so-great habits and turning our focus back to the basic laws of humanity, caring for our neighbors, not taking more than we need, creating homes rooted in intention and fostered by purpose will change the narrative of the negative at our cores.
You are my neighbor. You are a member of my community. I selfishly care about your well-being. The happier and more fulfilled you are, the more happiness you are able to radiate out. You matter. Your contributions matter. I want you to have the space you need to continue to create your magic. Your kindness can help heal others. I want you to feel good so you can help your family, friends, and neighbors feel good. Let’s turn away from crying in our closets, stockpiling our lives, spending money we don’t have on things we really don’t need, and turn our attention toward rekindling the embers of our home fires gathering with family, friends, and neighbors instead.
We all want to matter. We all want to weave our part into the collective fabric of the whole. We all want to contribute and do something of value.
We need your unique talents and gifts. Whatever that fire in your belly is, please make space to breathe life into it and share your brilliance with the rest of us.
Thank you for sharing this time with me. I hope you live well, love well, and keep leaning in to letting go.
Where to start when you don’t know where to start:
Give yourself grace.
Ask yourself: Who am I now? Does my space reflect who I am now?
It’s hard to get clear with your space until you get clear in your heart. It can be incredibly challenging to “get organized’ if you don’t know your why. Trying to get organized without a why is like trying to sail a ship without a compass.
Step away from your stuff. Put down your device. Turn off the tv. Go outside. Do this on repeat for 20 minutes every day for at least seven days. Get clear so you can get clear.
Write an intention for your home and place it under your front door mat. Write it as if it already is. Example: Peace, love, and happiness dwell here. All who enter bring goodness and joy. All who leave here leave filled with kindness and generosity.
“Organized” looks different to everyone. Stop copying the latest trends. Trying to replicate someone else’s color-coded book library or fancy-schmancy pantry system may not resonate with your natural habits or abilities.
Buying lots of pretty bins before you do any editing (weeding) is a waste of time and money. Think function first, then form. You most likely already have what you need.
Keep a drawer or shelf completely empty to symbolize the opportunity for growth.
The average child in America has over 75 toys. Too many toys creates distraction, overstimulation, reduced attention spans, and stifles creativity. Consider keeping ten or less out at a time and putting the rest away and on rotation.
Stop taking the freebies you know you won’t ever use. (Reminder: Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.)
Find a non-profit you align with. Give them your excess. Exercise the muscle of giving without expecting anything in return. I promise you’ll be amazed with what begins to come back to you in ways you’ve never imagined.
I know how much you spent, but the money is gone and you’re not getting it back.
I know your auntie was a seamstress, but I can money-back guarantee keeping her fabric swatches from 1967 that smell like mothballs and stagnation shoved in the corner of your garage covered in cobwebs and perceived obligation is not raising your vibration or getting you closer to happiness.
I’ve heard you say you want to be skinnier, trimmer, and more toned and that you may fit into that suit or pair of jeans again someday, but keeping clothes in your closet that don’t fit who you are now and make you feel like the best version of yourself is a sure-fire way to find yourself crying in your closet. Dress for the body you have now. (Reminder: The so-called perfect body images you see on your screens aren’t real. I repeat, not real. You, my friend, just like the Velveteen Rabbit, are Real.)
If, at any point, you find yourself confused or distraught, stop with the buts and go back to your why.
Why are you here?
What do you want?
That’s where there is.