Another baby-step towards better footing

I just reorganized my kitchen.  ‘Talk about a gush of energy!  I keep returning to look at my straightened cupboards and efficient arrangements for a cheap thrill!

Culinary Christmas presents threw my kitchen into serious critical mass with no place for too many things.

Kitchens are symbolic–and women are particularly conscious of this, I think.   When our kitchens are in order, our nerves are soothed.  It’s where we provide nurturing.  Conversations around the table are like traditional evenings around the fire–it’s where stories are told and feelings are shared.  It’s where laughter erupts and tears spring forth.

It’s often a place to be creative.  I can remember my mother spreading and smoothing material as she cut out a pattern (remember when our mothers made our clothes?) .

It’s often where the outside world intrudes our inner sanctum, as we stack our mail on the counter or clutter the table  with bills.  What a relief when we pay them down and clear them out.  An empty table is like exhaling stale breath.

Crumbs on the counter feel like things left undone.  Who doesn’t feel better when the dishes are washed and put away?

New Year’s Day was a perfect time to be alone to better sort out and deeply organize.  I could feel my emotions becoming more orderly as I allowed my self to re-envison what goes where.

How long should one keep unruly plastic containers, waiting for the mates to show up?  

And those assorted flours and baking supplies– if it’s over 6 months, out it goes,  along with those little flying critters which mysteriously hatch in the bags.

Do I need 3 mixing bowls, all the same size?    If the ceramic is chipped, there’s more where that came from at the thrift store–a place to recycle and change things up a bit,  while letting go of the same ol’, same ol’, especially fitting as we cycle into a brand new year.

Rock and roll made me move and the feeling of accomplishment was my groove.

And guess what?

Now I want to venture Into the  dark recesses under my bed-what’s in those plastic tubs?  Maybe clothes that I’ve long forgotten, a prize to rediscover!

For sure, a box of photos of people whom I love.  Safely storing them is procrastination on my part and avoiding the guilt that I would feel by throwing them away. So maybe it’s time to put those albums together.  My grandkids could help–an opportunity to learn some family history.

See how “ I desire”  is better than the pressure of  “ I should…” ?  If I want to feel a thrill–if the reward is big enough, I am more likely to make it happen!

And voila`,  dreaded Winter becomes the season to whittle down what I keep, by how much it truly means, relative to the space that I have.

What a novel thought– this baby-step thing is working!

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