Joy

OK.  I feel I have to start with a confession. I've never watched or read anything by Marie Kondo. Anyone who has seen my desk at work or my home will have known this already.  But there have been a number of articles, retorts and memes in response to her life philosophy. The KonMari method of getting organised "encourages tidying by category – not by location – beginning with clothes, then moving on to books, papers, komono (miscellaneous items), and, finally, sentimental items. Keep only those things that speak to the heart, and discard items that no longer spark joy. Thank them for their service – then let them go."

An article in the Guardian in response to the idea of decluttering your bookshelves had us talking at work.  Yes - like a red rag to a bunch of librarians - we came to the same conclusion. Some things in life aren't meant to bring you joy. Books (like movies, theatre, tv or art) can be challenging, uncomfortable, or thought-provoking. Sometimes it's the difficult stuff that stays with you, teaches you something, or teaches you something about yourself. Boundaries or ideas pushed can be a good thing. But joy isn't a word I'd use to describe a powerful emotional response for something that shoves you outside your comfort zone.  However, we all agreed that if people found books on World War II gave them feelings of joy, they should probably be on an ASIO watch list.

As a sentimentalist I find it hard to let much of anything go. Old clothes that no longer fit. School report cards. Knick knacks and mementos collected from people and places I can bearly remember. Randomly discovering these items in boxes or drawers makes me smile remembering moments that seem like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. They are trinkets for a past version of me. 

I understand sometimes that living in cluttered chaos is symptomatic of and detrimental to your mental health. Periods of depression or anxiety can mean some self-care cocooning, and simply managing to bath and feed  yourself is an achievement. Doing dishes and tidying can wait. But creating space around you can also create mental space too.  Maureen Herman (ex bass player with Babes in Toyland summed this up on Instagram) "My need for visual and physical order around me when dealing with internal chaos is a real thing." So I do understand the need to declutter our lives to create ordered calm.

Around the time the Netflix series began, a friend posted on Facebook that as a larger woman, none of her clothes 'spark joy' and were bought from the middle aged woman's section of Kmart.  I'm sure many people at some point in their lives have found clothes shopping to be dispiriting at best and soul destroying at worst.  Again the Konmari method seems off kilter with people's real life experience. It can be a luxury or akin to winning the lottery if you manage to find clothes that make you feel good and can afford. Sometimes in life it's just a matter of settling for the best you can find, rather than fabulousness.

An online discussion began, with people concerned that this seemed like quite a middle to upper class approach to your belongings. Ditch what doesn't make you happy but only if you can afford to replace it with something that might...otherwise do you go without? I worry about the awful message this sends regarding the environment and sustainability. My parent's generation made do, with hand me down furniture.  Young couples started their lives together with camp chairs and a card table or simply a bean bag. Now huge McMansions are built to house home cinemas. What level of consumerism or excess 'speaks to your heart'.  Landfill can take care of the joyless.

I joked and said we should apply the KonMari method to politicians.  People really seemed to get behind this suggestion, although we agreed Canberra would be a ghost town. But this gave me an idea. Maybe the real application for this philosophy should be relationships. I've realised recently that I have some really great people around me. People who care and lift me up.  People who believe in me and support me. And I've found I have some lovely people available for hugs when I've genuinely been in need recently.  However, in my twenties, I had people who would criticize or critique me. I've been in relationships where my appearance or clothes were commented on, or other people's stress and tension overwhelmed my own feelings. And as mentioned one or ten times before in this blog, a complicated relationship with my Dad.  The ultimate critical person, who tore others down to lift himself up. I've processed a lot since his death six years ago.  It is these people and those feelings and memories that I have held to my chest and evaluated. They did not spark joy or speak to my heart. I learned from these experiences but saying thank you seems a stretch too far.  But as I get older I have let them go. I choose to focus on the really incredibly ace people around me. Hopefully I can do the same for them. And that's my philosophy; the Andy Method.

(image 'Joy Diversion, Manchester' by erokism)
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