Deep Clean

There’s dust collected on the surfaces of my desk, smudges on my mirror, disorganized junk in my drawers. It needs to go.

I put on some Black Sabbath, and bring out the cleaning supplies. The dust takes a wipe with a clean cloth and cleaning solution. For the mirror smudges I use a microfiber cloth and the cleaning solution. I move the furniture around to get all the areas. This attracts the attention of my mother who joins in to put her finishing touches, sweeping the dust gathered on the floor, then mopping it. A collaborative effort, not a word uttered but very communicative. Finally comes the junk in the drawers. Every time I open my drawers I’m met with an ungodly mess of cables, batteries, pens, key chains, and other nonsense I’ve hoarded. I bring out a trash bag and begin to throw items into it. If I haven’t used it in the last three months, into the bag it goes. 
I analyse each item, accept it if it’s useful, and discard it if it’s not, then organise the drawers into sections hoping this will last for the next few weeks. The entire act is calm and exciting, moving at to the beat of War Pigs. Finally when the cleanse is done, and everything is in its place, I take a seat at my desk. It feels new, clean, and ready to be used. I feel at ease, lighter, and energised.

This is an activity I have scheduled every three months. I clean my workstation, and along with it my room. I can’t help but wonder it’s going to be chaos again in three months. Dust will collect on the surfaces, I will add new items to the cupboard, items loose their value of usability. Then I’ll need to clean again, as scheduled. 

But wiping my mirror, looking into it, and at myself, got me thinking. Why am I not keeping a cleaning schedule for my mind? A place I know to be cluttered with unexplored thoughts, stagnant emotions. Why is it easier to clear the junk out of my room than it is to clear it out of my mind?