The Great Sanctification

"First clean the inside of the cup, then the outside will also be clean."

This past holiday saw me doing some very deep spring cleaning in my bedroom. It began with a thought of file organizing but my heart was soon sinking in recognition of the task as a proverbial iceberg: I was out of storage space.

Clutter is inconveniently claustrophobic, and I do not like the constant visual reminders of my disorganized state of living. So I put the mess where I cannot see it. A friend once watching me tidy my room, said: "You know, shoving it in your cupboard does not count as tidying." This was a startling revelation since shoving things out of sight was my cleaning method of choice. My cupboards were consequently bulging open, I had to use an elastic band to keep the doors in a simulated state of closure. Another friend, who is particularly vocal about his dislike of uncleanliness - the topic comes up at least three times a visit - had a glimpse once into that black hole and burst out with a shocked remark on its despicable state, to which I cringed, "Don't look!". I respected both of my more disciplined friends' opinions but it was only when I visited a third friend and saw the inside of her cupboards hat I realised where I fell in the greater scheme of personal organization.

I was curious as to what I would find in the stomach of that beast, behind the voluminous gaping jaws of my cupboard.  There are things that I need and use everyday so what could be using that space? It took me 7 hours to sift through the admittedly small cupboards as well as my two bookshelves and desk. The turning out of junk sent me into an absolute cleaning frenzy, tossing the useless poppycock into piles and into the bin. In the end a vast pile of paper was to be recycled - including writing books from grade one?! - and a box and a large carry-bag of donations to be taken to Hospice. All of that I have retained despite three house moves in the past. What exactly was it made up of? I still cannot say. I did however find some gems, the best of which was a diary I had kept when I was thirteen.

What I did not expect from my adventure was the spiritual high and emotional elation of getting rid of useless stuff. Actually knowing what is in my cupboards: kick of dopamine. Being able to stand against my cupboard door and spread my arms flat: I almost began to cry. Every time I look over at my newly organized bookshelf, I feel a neat and pious thrill of satisfaction piercing my heart... Now I understand.