100 Lighter Days

Perfectly cluttered

 

photo courtesy of Flickr's Creative Commons and thunderchild5

--post by Jennifer Irsfeld James

Some households have a junk drawer in the kitchen. At my house, nearly every drawer is a catchall for delayed decisions: the semi-important, potentially historic, almost useful, or broken-but-possibly-repairable.

I yearn to purge the excess, but often feel too overwhelmed to take action. At the root, I fear making a mistake—an imperfect decision.

But the slog of clutter is getting to be a real problem. Yesterday I couldn't find the extra digital TV converter box coupon I had promised a friend. I knew I had it tucked away in a safe place,  somewhere. . .

That dilemma brought me to a new book Be Happy Without Being Perfect: How to Break Free from the Perfection Deception, by Alice D. Domar, Ph.D., and Alice Lesch Kelly. Reading about how perfectionism smothers and stifles, both in the words of Domar, a practicing
psychologist, and more than fifty of her patients interviewed in the book, is helping free me from perfectionist paralysis.

My favorite chapter, "Stop Agonizing Over Decisions," offers several tools I've been testing:

• Visualize living with a decision. (How will I feel in a year or even a decade about letting go of a particular piece of children's artwork?)
• Use a decision-making tree to discover hidden fears. (If I give away an antique porcelain box my grandmother gave me, she might find out and be disappointed or angry.)
• Challenge distorted, black-and-white thinking, such as "should" statements. (When I think "It's rude of me not to keep all gifts I receive," I can tell myself "Gifts are given to me to use as I choose, so it's perfectly acceptable for me to donate or share gifts that I cannot use.")

So how's it working? This time, I found the missing coupon after an hour of de-cluttering! But even if I hadn't, I'd still celebrate a bulging bag of recycled stuff and a donation box piled high. Many small decisions decisively made.

 

Don't organize it. . . shed it!

Julie Morgenstern, the most practical organizer I know, says when we're trying to get to a new place in our lives, we don't need to organize. We need to shed! "Release the old things that are no longer relevant to make room for the new to come in." That's how we gain the energy to let the new come in.

Thanks, Julie! That would explain why I felt so free after I plopped my old high school teacher files into the recycling bin. I became more committed to this freelance writing and speaking gig. Oh, yeh. . .keep doing it!

They lived with their eyes open

 

photo by Deborah Jansen

How humbling and beautiful it was to sit at the base of Chimney Rock, near Pagosa Springs, Colorado. Sitting there, I became fully aware that people who lived centuries before me were probably more attentive to the world than I am. The ancestral Pueblo people didn't have modern knowledge, but they had the gift of observation and silence. That led them to notice this rock formation, which helped them live with the rhythm of life. When the sun and the moon were framed where the rock's shadowy notch fell close to the horizon, that coincided with spring and fall. That discovery led them to understand when it was time to plant and harvest. They held a celebration for both seasons on the plateau near this rock. A flute song may have floated on the wind like the one I heard from Charles Martinez, a man who crafts and plays flutes in the Native American tradition. Beautiful. . . .

What am I observing today—in a big-picture kind of way? What or who am I called to truly see?

Let micromovements change your life

  

photo courtesy of Flickr's Creative Commons 

Rather than plunge into improving our lives with the wrath of Brunhilda, choose micromovements --something personal, such as those suggested by Planet SARK , or global as suggested in the Small Act Network. And. . .share your ideas with friends. Like us.

My friend Jen and I discovered when we created our own incremental changes in small blocks of time, lightness started to become a state of mind. . . rather than a number on the scale or a deluge of perfect expectations. Think in terms of 7 minutes. Be gentle, but effective. Pick a few areas of your life, and let us know what worked for you. We need inspiration too. Let it go. . . .

• Want to lose weight? Grab 7 fresh strawberries instead of a cookie.

• Want to get in better shape? Walk for 7 minutes at lunch hour. (Option: partner with a friend.)

• Want to improve your mind and your career? Skim 1 magazine article or online story. (Check out Suite 101 for lots of short, practical articles.)

• Want to make space for spirituality? Take 7 deep, slow breaths and meditate on a simple, focused phrase---several times a day.

• Want to increase your generosity? Give away 1 item today--book, music, magazines, shirt, etc. or . . . collect 1 item each day of the week and put it in a bag. Bring it to the thrift store on Saturday.

• Want to reduce clutter? Get rid of 1 box of stuff you're not using (such as college lecture notes or inactive client files).

• Want better relationships? Spend 7 extra minutes really listening to someone.

• Want to be more effective professionally? Choose 1 simple action to move you closer to one of your top priorities.

What 3 micromovements did you make TODAY?

Dissatisfaction is the first painful step

photo courtesy of Flickr's Creative Commons

I am NOT as fit as the women in this picture. But, weight loss and fitness are on my New Year's resolution list. Like Oprah, who had fallen off her wagon, I looked at my life and felt dissatisfied. (Check out some of Oprah's Best Life resources.) This year, I'm determined to start small.

A year ago, I let rabid resolutions shoot me through a gym door into the front row of “Butts and Guts,” a serious aerobic workout led by a shapely woman with a Southern drawl. Of course, it's hard to say whether she had a New Year's vengeance to weed out slackers. But, that's how I responded. I was determined to strut my stuff and prove I'd be back.

Twenty-four hours later, the infamous B & G area was not fit but frozen in pain. On my desk, I accumulated a list of tasks and a pile of papers before risking trips up or down the stairs. It took nearly a week to recover. I never went back to that aerobic workout.

So this year, I started slowly—before New Year's resolution hype. I asked a friend if she'd join me in an experiment. Besides putting weight and fitness on the list this year—could we consider our whole lives? What would happen if we touched base with each other a few times a week to report small steps toward good health? What if we also took time to get rid of stuff, increase generosity, create space on our calendars for spirituality? What would happen if learned to be simply and fully awake? Would we feel start to feel lighter?

To be continued. . . .