Permaculture Office
We've begun to organise T's office.
Now that purpletigron 's explained them and we've done a bit of reading, it's clear that permaculture principles are really sensible and Omigods-Why-Did-I-Not-See-That?! type obvious.
So obvious and simple they get totally shunted aside for stupid and unworkable and unsustainable and misery-making versions.
And they can be applied to everything, from gardens to offices to emotional lives.
In just 90 minutes of picking up objects and asking, "NEED, freecycle, recycle or bin?", we've made huge progress.
At this rate, the room can be a hell of a lot more organised within a couple of days, and we can not only start freecycling a lot of things tomorrow, we can start asking on freecycle for specifics in terms of storage units, etc. I expect it to be very different by next week.
It makes a big difference when you feel that you're working with your surroundings rather than being overwhelmed by them.
Doing this stuff might not seem like therapy or self-help, but it is. It's a physical manifestation of what's going on emotionally.
When the place is a mess, I feel stressed. Most people do, certainly on an unconscious level.
I don't mean when things are a little out of order, but when you're not sure what you've got where; when it seems more worrying to face doing anything more than making piles of things and hoping for the best; when you can't lay your hands on what you need because it might be squirreled away somewhere; when someone's coming to visit and you feel like you wish they'd given you a couple of days (or more) to clean and you close doors in your house out of embarrassment rather than any sense of privacy.
We adjust to things - even things that make us feel bad, deep down.
We put up with things when we haven't made a conscious decision to do so. When they've just piled up, seemingly on their own. Our surroundings can become sources of seemingly free-floating anxiety that actually drain us of energy.
Everyone has their own individual reactions to their environment. What one finds aesthetically pleasing and efficient might cause another discomfort. And we each have to work out what ours are, rather than assuming that if we're putting up with it and trudging from one day to the next it must mean that this is what makes us happy.
It's astonishing how liberating a good clear out can be.
Whether it's computer cables, clothing that no longer fits or makes us feel good, or habits and beliefs, actually looking at something and asking, "Do I NEED this in order to function well and be happy? Does it bring me joy or make me stressed or just take up space without me feeling anything about it? Can I let it go and how? How do I want my [room/house/garden/bodymind complex] to be organised? What will be most productive and fulfilling for me?" makes a heck of a difference.
And it's never, never as scary as we think it will be - and it feels better than just putting up with things for the sake of it.
In next week's exciting installment: The Spare Room Of Doom is turned into A Room With A View To Being Useful.
Now that purpletigron 's explained them and we've done a bit of reading, it's clear that permaculture principles are really sensible and Omigods-Why-Did-I-Not-See-That?! type obvious.
So obvious and simple they get totally shunted aside for stupid and unworkable and unsustainable and misery-making versions.
And they can be applied to everything, from gardens to offices to emotional lives.
In just 90 minutes of picking up objects and asking, "NEED, freecycle, recycle or bin?", we've made huge progress.
At this rate, the room can be a hell of a lot more organised within a couple of days, and we can not only start freecycling a lot of things tomorrow, we can start asking on freecycle for specifics in terms of storage units, etc. I expect it to be very different by next week.
It makes a big difference when you feel that you're working with your surroundings rather than being overwhelmed by them.
Doing this stuff might not seem like therapy or self-help, but it is. It's a physical manifestation of what's going on emotionally.
When the place is a mess, I feel stressed. Most people do, certainly on an unconscious level.
I don't mean when things are a little out of order, but when you're not sure what you've got where; when it seems more worrying to face doing anything more than making piles of things and hoping for the best; when you can't lay your hands on what you need because it might be squirreled away somewhere; when someone's coming to visit and you feel like you wish they'd given you a couple of days (or more) to clean and you close doors in your house out of embarrassment rather than any sense of privacy.
We adjust to things - even things that make us feel bad, deep down.
We put up with things when we haven't made a conscious decision to do so. When they've just piled up, seemingly on their own. Our surroundings can become sources of seemingly free-floating anxiety that actually drain us of energy.
Everyone has their own individual reactions to their environment. What one finds aesthetically pleasing and efficient might cause another discomfort. And we each have to work out what ours are, rather than assuming that if we're putting up with it and trudging from one day to the next it must mean that this is what makes us happy.
It's astonishing how liberating a good clear out can be.
Whether it's computer cables, clothing that no longer fits or makes us feel good, or habits and beliefs, actually looking at something and asking, "Do I NEED this in order to function well and be happy? Does it bring me joy or make me stressed or just take up space without me feeling anything about it? Can I let it go and how? How do I want my [room/house/garden/bodymind complex] to be organised? What will be most productive and fulfilling for me?" makes a heck of a difference.
And it's never, never as scary as we think it will be - and it feels better than just putting up with things for the sake of it.
In next week's exciting installment: The Spare Room Of Doom is turned into A Room With A View To Being Useful.