Many of us, myself included, would profess themselves to not be the most organised of people. We lose our phones, we forget to keep track of dates and deadlines, and despite our best efforts the mess and the clutter seem to creep back up on us. I confess to having read, enjoyed, and attempted to implement the Marie Kondo method for decluttering, with middling success. Though I only fold my clothes correctly half the time, and probably still have many more things hanging around that don’t instantly spark joy, one lesson did stick: that cleaning and decluttering is a lifelong process that never stops.
We could chalk it up to the futility of fighting entropy, the theory that all things inevitably tend to chaos and disorder, and lament our hopelessness in ever keeping things clean. I sometimes think this mess is proof that things are in motion, that we have inhabited this space and by our mere presence, left a mark. You could take this to another level as a metaphor for humanity’s continuing impact on the Earth and its environment, but I want to focus on a microcosm of where we spend on time, and even more so during the COVID-19 pandemic: our rooms. It could be a home office, the living room, the bedroom, or (as is my case) all of them squished into one.
Doing everything in a relatively small space has multiple advantages, such as being able to keep track of everything, having all the essentials quickly on hand, and forcing yourself to really consider the value of everything you keep there. A downside could be that you have to be creative in how you store everything while constantly having to remodel the arrangement of your room depending on the needs of the moment — but if you can enjoy the process then really this becomes more of a fun challenge.
I reorganise my room every month and a half or so. Sometimes it’s as simple as packing away some old notebooks and clothes and bringing out gear for a different season, and other times it’s a more involved affair where I deep cleanse everything by tossing everything I’m uncertain about onto the floor and then sorting through it all to decide, first whether it’s worth keeping, and two how to categorise it. Is it a memory? A useful item? Or just something I keep around for the fun of it? Much like a taxidermist, I scrutinise with zeal my possessions to situate them in my mind and in space based on function, use, and aesthetics.
And amid the many things I can’t control in the world, this is one of my physical anchors. Not so much the fact that it doesn’t change (because again, entropy dictates that my room starts to get messy the moment I finish cleaning it), but that it’s me that decides how to change it. Some people find solace in creating things, through woodworking or sewing or crafts. I find this is a similar activity in that every time you reorganise your room you breathe a new form of your miniature world into existence.
This whole process can be quite cathartic. A while back I decided to take a mental health day to disconnect from school and work (which I would highly recommend) and I ended up spending most of my day just cleaning and reorganising my room. The physical process of sorting and thinking about such mundane things as whether a sweater still fits your style acts as a somewhat useful distraction from the rush of life and forces us to slow down for some self-examination. It makes you ask yourself whether the things you own reflect who you are, who you were, and who you want to be.
Sometimes these questions have difficult or mysterious answers, but it’s a good first step to acknowledging them. A younger me would have wanted more clothes to feel more socially accepted, but now I value the outdoor gear that I have that helps me live my passions outside. Another lesson that I take from Marie Kondo though is never to feel guilty or ashamed of the possessions that belonged to a past self. Embarrassing though it may be, they brought joy at the time, even if only for a brief moment, and no one can or should stay the same. Change is synonymous with life. All we can do is try our best to put the things we can where we think they fit.
And while it’s good, even healthy, to throw out or donate things that take up space or that you don’t need, we should be careful of falling into a consumer trap of simply buying new possessions to replace them. This toxic cycle is detrimental to your wallet and forthe environment, so I aim to repurpose as much as possible such as using old bags for travel organisers or old climbing gear to hang and strap things down for example. If we’re talking sustainability though, reduction is the first and best solution; knowing exactly what you have and what state it’s in can reduce your junk load and your purchases big time.
I find in this process of deciding what to keep and unearthing old memorabilia a rediscovery of my values, of what I truly cherish, whether it’s camping and climbing gear that I haven’t had the chance to use in a while, or old letters and photos. Even old gimmicks from a summer camp I used to work with bring a smile to my face, as I think on those fun times that have passed and how much I’ve grown since then. Some people will prefer keeping more things than others, and for others having more possessions can give a sense of permanence, a sense of stability that many of us lack sometimes. Still, we own our possessions, not the other way around, and just like a trader in the stock market we have to decide if what we’re holding in our hands still holds value for us. I think the real joy of organising isn’t just looking at a clean room, but the process of self-rediscovery that comes with it.
