Clearing the Mental Clutter

View of Lake Michigan from Navy Pier, Chicago

I tend toward chaos. Without constant attention and diligence, I'm just a messy person. I enjoy well-organized spaces, as long as they feel lived-in. But left unchecked, I create clutter: magazines, newspapers, mail, print-outs, dirty dishes, laundry -- they all pile up so easily.

And that's just the external mess. The internal disorder is so much worse. My mind backlogs with half-formed ideas, I start to forget things, and frustration sets in. As an editor for my clients, I'm extremely detail-oriented, even nitpicky. I can take a muddled manuscript and infuse it with the rosy glow of clarity. But when my mental clutter overflows, it's my own writing that suffers. I may have loads to say, but I struggle to get it out in an orderly -- and interesting -- manner.

One of the ways I combat the messy mind syndrome is by cleaning. My physical environment deeply affects my mood and mindset. So I try to clear my head by clearing a room. Today I spent hours digging out from the embarrassing mess that filled my office. I feel a bit more focused, but I'm still all over the map.

Part of the problem is that I haven't written my morning pages for about a week. Every day when I get up, I try to write three pages in a journal. The writing doesn't have to be good or coherent or interesting. It's a place to let out the chatter. Sometimes I write three pages of boring stream-of-consciousness chatter. And sometimes I hit upon something significant, or even have a small epiphany. The practice of the morning pages is part of The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. And the more I write them, the more clearheaded I am.

Right now, I have so much I want to share with you. Thoughts on community (online and off), my time in Chicago, and what exactly the "real world" is. Please bear with me as I sort through the chaff.

And tell me, what do you do to clear out your mental clutter?

Serendipity

Life has been so full of serendipity lately that I can practically hear the Universe singing. But my little world has also been full of confusion, sadness, and wounds that won't heal. I'm living a double life. My one face can't see the sun for all the storm clouds and tears. My other face is upturned, scanning the heavens for signs and shooting stars, rejoicing in the sheer magic and connectedness of it all. I'm an emotional Janus. I'm doing my best to hold on to the synchronicity and the magic because I desperately need them.

A few weeks ago I wrote about what it means to call myself a "writer" and to go one step further and use the term "artist." A few days later several of my favorite bloggers wrote similar thoughts on the topic, including this one that introduced me to a book called The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron. I posted a note in the comments section noting the synchronicity of our blog posts. Then I went out the next day to buy the book because it sounded just like what I needed.

As I read the opening chapters, I was excited about the idea of connecting with and nurturing my creative and spiritual sides at the same time. I've felt battered and bruised in both of these areas lately and was looking forward to some healing. When I got to the following passage of the book, I had to chuckle at the alignment of everything:

As you work with the tools in this book, as you undertake the weekly tasks, many changes will be set in motion. Chief among these changes will be the triggering of synchronicity: we change and the universe furthers and expands that change. I have an irreverent shorthand for this that I keep taped to my writing desk: "Leap, and the net will appear." (p.2)

Even the introduction of the book contained little bits of synchronicity for me. Cameron writes about living and working in New York and refers to places in Manhattan. I'd just come back from a weekend in the city and was -- for the first time in my life -- familiar with some of the places she described. It felt like everything was converging to make sense for me, in big and small ways. That New York trip itself was full of serendipity, including old friends, an Orthodox nun's prediction, and a new friend who felt like an old one.

What's the serendipity in your life these days?