I am NOT the first person to make this observation and yes, I am aware that this is a "thing". No, I won't talk about book "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up," though I have heard lots of people sing its praises. I know I am riding the wave here but as one of my early writing mentors said to my class of angst-y fledglings: Sure, it's all been said before....but it hasn't all been said by you.
That said, let me now add my recent observations.
First, a confession: I am a pack rat. Big time. I have also become both by choice and situation the family historian and stuff-keeper. My family on both sides have passed on documents and stuff -- lots of *stuff* -- because they know I will treasure it.
The pack-rattery is evident in my work space, too. I have been in my current position for 14 years and at the University for 25, so there's, again, stuff. Everywhere. Things that are mine and things that were my predecessor's.... and her predecessor's....and even stuff I'd brought from my previous position. On and on and on.
This spring, it was announced a large donation had been given to us, which meant that the long-discussed renovations to our ancient, weird building would actually happen. Immediately after next spring's graduation, we will be vacating our offices and relocating for 18 months. I quickly saw my new future and realized what was coming: a total purge of my space, the thing I'd avoided for over a decade.
So I began...small. The financial files, an easy cull. July 1 always means the switchover for fiscal year files. No sweat. Then I went deeper: program files from this year...then the previous few years...then the deeper archeological dive: the shelves of doom. I call them "The Shelves of Doom" because this is an ugly, metal bookshelf with deep shelves that has housed dusty boxes of mysterious items going back to the 80s. Floppy diskettes with handbooks from the 80s, old letterhead when the office had a different name and location, and cassettes of lectures from faculty members, now deceased. In other words, a treasure trove of disposable and archival items.
At first, I thought I would tear my hair out. The process pushed me to frequent the coffee pot, the water cooler and of course, multiple trips to the bathroom, just to be able to walk *away* from this overwhelming project. WHAT had I started? HOW could I even tackle such dreck? And *why* couldn't any of my predecessors have taken the time to get this nonsense started?!
I filled our shredding box and had to call the service to come and take it to be shredded. Then another and another. By the third fill, I beginning to notice something. My space looked...bigger, brighter. I was beginning to feel something new: liberation.
It was on the third and final week of the project that I found the gift, the thing that brought me to tears.
I'd saved the annoying metal tiered baskets on my desk for the last week of the project. I knew I'd been ignoring them for God-knows how many years. An easy dump at the end, I figured. In the middle shelf, I pulled out a pile of old office calendars (2012-2015, of course) and on top of them was a CD. It was music from Iona Island in Scotland, titled "The Thin Place", still in its original plastic, never opened. And on it was a Post-it note:
HELLO, DEAR LES!
Just a little souvenir from my sabbatical. See you soon!
MUCH LOVE,
Harry
Harry. My Harry.
If you have been reading my blog or if you have known me for at least a few years, then you know that for the last year and a half, I have mourned the loss of a treasured co-worker, Harry Huff. If I write more about him now, I'll cry. To say that I was given a gift...a gift from Harry...
Though I am a believer in the occasional miracle, I generally do not expect them for myself. This one caught me off-guard in ways beyond words.
Did it seem like it was my reward for cleaning up my act? No, it actually didn't. When I looked around at my easier-to-manage files and cleaner desk, the satisfaction of accomplishment and feeling unusually ready for new semester, was the real reward.
What will I do for an encore, you ask? Remember all that stuff I have at home, all those family items? Are you imagining that I have them organized and available? Hell, no. They are sitting around in plastic bins, cardboard boxes and reusable grocery bags. That project will be the job of a lifetime; I feel clear about that...and I feel okay with it, too.
I have already accomplished it once, so I know I am ready for the next.
And your encore? Go pick out something to straighten up. People will tell you that you have to either love it or need it. I can't say that you should use that criteria, though I am sure you will figure out your own system. But get started. Who knows what gifts you will be given??
Peace.
