On a Clean Room

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by how downright complicated it is to be human. You have an intellect, talents, emotions, opportunities, relationships, choices, open doors, closed doors, books, clothes, mixed feelings, hunger, thirst, chocolate, jobs, limitations, vitamins, laundry, groceries, advantages, good looks, and bad hair days. All this stuff clamors every day to be noticed, dealt with, balanced, resolved, etc., etc., etc. And some days I feel so overwhelmed and lost in all the mess that I want to put on bright pink socks, hop on my bike, and drive to the end of some road in another state. Or I might actually have to run because I think I've let my chain rust.

Then there are times like now when I look around at my room, which I was able to clean this weekend. My dresser is cleared of the persistent piles of paper scraps; I've dusted everything; my desk has one small pile of things to deal with and a few receipts that I haven't logged yet (actually, since posting, I've cleared these piles, too); my floor is clear; all my clean clothes are ironed and put away; my books are in neat stacks; the sheets on my bed are fresh; I've gotten to leave my window open for fresh air the past two beautiful days; I balanced my checkbook; I've had my piece(s) of chocolate; and even though I have to go to work tomorrow, everything is okay.

If only peace were so simple. You'd just have to think a few purifying thoughts, brush your teeth, and voila! peace, like a clean room. sigh.