(Above–my imperfect, cluttered, but cozy work-in-progress home)

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I’ve been an enthusiast of the Konmari method since Marie Kondo’s bestseller, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying” was first published in North America, (and I’m eager to read Kondo’s new book “Spark Joy”).  Although it’s still cold outside,  I’m noticing a little bit more light, and this is prompting a renewed effort towards order. I have noticed, after participating in several konmari Facebook support-groups, after chatting with many friends about the approach, and after implementing Konmari in my own life and home (still very much a work in progress!) that  the heart of Kondo’s approach isn’t really about organizing, or decluttering.  It’s about growing up, and, well, getting a life—a life that is intentionally ours, and that reflects our true values.

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Everyone has different desires and expectations and indeed, values.  The style and state of our homes is always intertwined with the complexities of class and privilege, and I don’t think that housekeeping is, or should be, a moral issue.  It’s personal. I want my children to grow up in an environment that is clean, and sanitary.  Keeping an orderly environment is, for me, about self-respect, personal responsibility, and dignity.  These are value judgements that apply to myself, only.

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Interestingly, the majority of posts to the Konmari Facebook support group I’m a member of, have to do with the anxiety that so many of us feel about our things, our attachments to objects, and the emotions that go along with them.  I have read countless stories of individuals agonizing about getting rid of stuff that they feel bound to because of the expectations of family members, or the feelings that other people attach to the object in question.

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Growing up and finally becoming an adult is about taking responsibility for our own life, our physical space, owning our ideals, preferences and reactions, and doing it all with some grace, and compassion.  Real grace and compassion of course, has to extend to ourselves first, before we can truly share it with others.  So when your mother tells you that she is going to be devastated if you get rid of that armoire, and similarly devastated if you paint the armoire a colour that pleases you, but that she also doesn’t want the armoire back, no thanks, this reveals a lack of clarity and integrity on your mum’s part.  And that’s ok—you can still love her, and cherish her and appreciate her, but you don’t need to get caught up in her story about you, or the furniture.  Growing up is being able to say, transparently, honestly and gently,  “Thank you so much for the armoire mum, it served me well, and I’m getting rid of it now.  I love you, and I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

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The scary, yet liberating truth, is that growing up is not an obligation, and it definitely doesn’t have to happen for everyone.  In fact, growing up doesn’t generally take place as a magical “happening”.   For most of us, growing up occurs as a result of a series of conscious decisions involving taking responsibility for our emotions, our limitations, our finances, our relationships, our stuff.  After all, integrity is the alignment between values, thoughts, words, and actions. Integrity is simply being whole.  When we are acting inauthentically, out of alignment with our values, real progress, achievement, or satisfaction isn’t possible.  I have a long way to go with this project myself.  I have found it to be profound and useful to ask myself how I want my children to describe me when they’re visiting their therapists as adults–highly motivating!

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Because in reality, there are lots of sad, whiny, excuse-making 90 year olds out there, who haven’t taken the leap into adulthood, and never will.  We’re all free to get old, without becoming accountable.  That’s a scary thought, for me. For those of us working on growing up, it can be especially difficult to handle the realization that perhaps our own parents will never be the adults we desperately wanted them to be when we were kids. There is often a lot of anger, and regret, and sadness that goes along with that awareness.  But it’s also very liberating to see and to acknowledge the truth.  When we can see who our parents are without unrealistic expectation, or resentment, and love them anyway, we can then make space to differentiate between them, and ourselves, and between the stuff that sparks joy (both physical and emotional) and the stuff that doesn’t, without guilt and without being tethered to others’ expectation of us.

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These truths apply to all areas of our existence.  There are never any guarantees in life, and the notion of control is always illusory.  And yet we do always have control over our decisions, and our reactions, and in large part, to our physical space, whether we live in a mansion or a garret (everyone can wash the baseboards).  The paradox of control and surrender, of course, applies to birth as well.  In my next post, I’ll be writing about a recent birth that I witnessed, and two central, yet paradoxical elements that can greatly contribute to a successful home birth or free birth.

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Have you read Marie Kondo’s books?  Are you struggling with growing up (like I am, like so many of us are?) Has the “konmari” method worked for you–with or without kids? I’d love to hear your story.

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Yolande