Taming Chaos: An Act Of Faith

Left to my own devices I can take a room from spotless to hopeless in under two minutes. And that’s without really even trying. It’s a talent -- a lot like Pigpen from the Charlie Brown cartoons … except more paper, and less actual dirt.

In truth, I don’t even like messes. But I hate to get rid of anything that might still be useful. So tossing things out is a fairly daring act of faith for me.

It’s like I’m making a formal declaration to the Universe ... I don't need these things anymore!! ... Which is actually true, but I’m a little concerned the message will get garbled ... and what the Universe will hear is ... I have no more needs!! ... and stop paying attention.

Because I assure you, I still have needs.

In the past, this just seemed too big a risk to take. But this is the present, and, inspired by Order from Chaos, by Liz Davenport, I’m doing things a little differently:

• I’m giving away pants that don’t fit, even though I might change sizes again ...
• I’m throwing out pieces of paper with information I no longer recognize, (phone numbers, addresses, names, urls, passwords, directions, etc.) ...
• And I’m letting go of half-formed ideas jotted on paper, printouts from websites I visited long ago, and birthday cards from last summer ...

I’m no longer going to keep things ‘just-in-case’. Because in this moment, right now, I’m doing ok. I have what I need. And it’s pretty likely if I need something different in the future ... I’ll be able to figure it out.

And, really, when you think about it, saving resources from the past ... in order to meet needs I anticipate, but can’t predict in the future ... is kind of pointless ... not to mention taking up way too much closet space ... and infringing on the possibilities in my present.

So, with that in mind, and with thanks and apologies to Robert Frost, I give you a poem:

Sorting through my things on a winter evening ...

Whose stuff is this? I think I know ...
It’s just I’m hesitant to throw
My weak excuses I can hear
And I won’t miss what I don’t know.

My animals must think it queer,
To see me sorting through my fear
With boxes 3: keep, toss & please take
On Sunday evenings this time of year.

They give their ears a hearty shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
But though sometimes I wish to weep
This change is good, for all our sake.

These stack are lovely, tall and deep
With things I no longer need to keep
Thus piles to go through before I sleep,
And piles to go through before I sleep.

© 2004. All rights reserved. Beth M. Lyons, www.kitchentablecoaching.com

About the author: In addition to wringing ezine essays out of the tiniest of notions, Beth Lyons is the creator of the Million Dollar Life™ Coaching program, and co-founder of Kitchen Table Coaching™: where remarkable women gather to dream out loud. Kitchen Table Coaching offers mastermind coaching groups, individual, customized coaching programs, Barbara Sher Success Teams, Teleclass Workshops, Webinars, and the occasional live workshop. For more information go to www.KitchenTableCoaching.com.

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