I’m sitting at my little writing desk and I’m looking around my house, trying to see it from a stranger’s eye. Is it cluttered? Maybe ever so slightly, depending on one’s idea of what clutter actually means.
I’m the opposite of a minimalist. Every empty space in my house is taken up by objects, every wall is covered in photos.
But it’s not messy. I don’t think.
My mind could probably use some de-cluttering. I’m trying to undo years of multitasking. My brain thinks it needs to multitask to be successful. Apparently (and rightfully so), multitasking is no longer cool. Being mindful is cool.
Completing tasks one at a time, giving each the attention it deserves, is cool. Not rushing through washing the dishes is cool. Taking my time and enjoying the fact that I have dishes to wash, in instantly hot water that comes from a tap, turned on by the flick of a wrist, is cool.
Okay okay, I get it.
But…in my defense, I have years and years of thinking that I needed to rush, embedded in my brain. It was useful to get through each day, almost like a fight or flight reaction.
I’m trying to do better. Worry about one problem or potential problem at a time. Enjoy sitting on my comfy couch or bed to fold laundry.
As I write, I’ve got my binder open with an assignment not completed, right here on my desk next to the laptop and I keep looking over at it. It’s egging me on. It’s saying hurry up and finish typing in that blog, this is more important.
Yikes. I’ve got a ways to go.
bloom.planted.north 
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