I guess it's shopping in reverse. What do I want to not be here taking up space and holding dust and old worn-out ideas. What do I not see now -- that I no longer need -- that has faded from view but that still takes energy.
As soon as I have a box or two loaded up, we drop them off at a local thrift store and then I begin again.
Some things are not clutter. Some things are collections. I may someday start in on the collections, but that's not my point at the moment. What fits for now, stays. Including blank spaces that are lovely in themselves.
In decluttering, I've discovered things behind other things and I've relocated things I'd lost and found things I forgot I have. Some are trash and some are treasures.
Notebooks got stashed under beds long ago. When we moved in, two years ago, everything came from storage and the notebooks were shoved out of sight. I'd deal with them someday.
A few are sporadic, from when I was in my teens. In my twenties, I was lucky to find a pen, let alone a moment to write anything down. But come my thirties, and I was writing daily. So there were mountains of notebooks.
I'd already done one cleansing when we lived in the apartment. I ripped whole pages and chapters from the books and tossed them. Threw whole batches of notebooks in the trash without looking. Some I kept, wanting to pay attention someday to the astrological side of why things happened when they happened.
Most of the tarot/rune notebooks, I kept. I hoped to look back ten years and see the cards again and see how much my understanding of them had changed.
This is the first chance I've had to stop and do this. Little by little. With a cup of tea and music playing soft in the background, I open the books and look at what the cards told me long ago.
So much is there. I watch the progression of a card or rune playing out in different places as the days move forward --here on this page, the tower in the future, and here the tower is the story, and here the tower is in the past and I've moved on to find the solution in the High Priestess.
More of the story than I knew emerges in the cards. I don't need the words now -- just the cards or the runes. Like someone reading music plays the song written long ago and hears it for the first time.
Other things surface. Things the kids wrote. Things I wrote and don't remember. I found numerology I'd done for the whole family -- ages ago. But it wasn't the way I do numerology now. I barely remembered this method. And I didn't know where I'd learned it, how to go back to relearn this way.
That was last night. I only own four numerology books, one is nonsense, two are a set and very good and one is spiritully written and lyrical and sweet. But where did I learn this other way of doing the work?
I asked Spirit.
Today, cleaning the closet in the guest room, I found a small box of books that got shoved there when we moved in. There was my mystery numerology book.
Since the day before my birthday, I've been reaching for refresher courses on all I once knew and let go. This method of the numbers would be another.
As I get rid of things, other things surface. It goes this way, as well for memories. Suddenly I remember an old rite, word for word. I'd forgotten. I recall a spell I'd done years before and remembered the outcome.
A few weeks ago, my oldest sister told me she asked her God to forgive her for hoarding. Well, mine doesn't have to forgive anything. But I understand her sudden realization that that is what she was doing. Letting go of things, both of the mind and in the environment, is freeing. And it brings forward what is real and important and present.
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