Unpacked
A field note from the messy bedroom floor
I generally think of myself as a productive person. I get a lot done. I learn fast and move fast. I juggle multiple professional projects with my personal creativity practise. I like to cook dinner most nights for my family - a proper home-cooked meal. I enjoy making sourdough bread. I’m constantly learning, growing and refining things.
However, there are obvious cracks in the veneer.
Why do I still have unpacked boxes sitting in my bedroom?
Why did it take multiple years to choose and buy a full-length mirror? (Thank goodness Paul instigated putting it up, or it would probably still be sitting on the floor in our studio)
Why are some of my beloved books sitting in piles on the floor, while others are yet to be unpacked?
How is it that every time I want to take a photo of my cat looking cute, I have to frame out some unsightly pile of clutter?
And yet - I’m am good at doing things. I accomplish things all the time. I meet my deadlines, I follow through on my word, I’m there for my family.
But you see, this isn’t about doing things after all. It’s about becoming.
The procrastination is a paralysis of being.
In order to do it differently. I need to be a different person. Sounds overly dramatic, but it’s true. I wrote this piece nearly two years ago looking at the patterns of procrastination. Today, another twist on the spiral.
So with utmost self-compassion, I am looking at the piles of things, I am writing down the tasks I intend on completing. I am taking steps. And I am leaning into the version of me who lives in a space which reflects that she is worthy of having a life that’s well-organised. Not necessarily clutter-free, but at least allowed to put her books up on proper book cases, and swap out those tatty bankers boxes for a real filing cabinet.
I hold a monthly reset session called The Clearing. A shared field for quiet work. The next session is April 17th at 11am EDT.