Yesterday I sent my friend a picture of the inside of my
bathroom cabinet. Note the items on the second shelf, ascending joyfully from
left to right. I’m eagerly awaiting a picture of my friend’s underwear drawer.
Why? A best-selling little pastel green book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.
It seems like all the ladies (Sorry for the profiling, guys. I’ll edit this
once I meet a guy fan.) in my neighborhood/ Facebook feed are tidying.
This book enters a crowded field of tough-love decluttering books
(also this parody), devoted to saving pathetic acquisitive pack-ratters like me
from the soul-deadening, life-shortening, dagnabbed frustrating heaps of our
own stuff. Don’t love it/use it/have a place for it! Toss that ol’ thang!
Clutter is the enemy!
KonMari (a Japanesey cutening of the author’s name, Marie
Kondo) is kind of the Hello Kitty of decluttering drill sergeants. She
encourages a “tidying marathon” leading to respectable Dumpster-loads of
discarded stuff.
But instead of reviling clutter, we are to hold each possession
in our hands, and to keep only those that “spark joy.” And after determining
which things spark joy, we are to lavish them with care and attention.
Konmari comes off as just a little nuts (charming, but
nuts). She passionately describes the feelings of inanimate objects,
encouraging tidyers to respectfully thank each object before chucking it. And
some of her feng-shui-flavored organizing mandates work best if you happen to
live in a Japanese home, with its distinctive deep closets designed to hold
folding futons during the day.
Unlike other declutterers, Konmari acknowledges that each
possession at one time sparked an emotion that caused us to bring it into the
house. And that a precious few material objects enhance our lives and bring us
joy. That it feels good to live in an orderly place surrounded by our most
beloved objects.
I think that focus on gratitude and acknowledgement of the
pleasure-bringing qualities of our earthly possessions is what’s rocketed her
to 60 some-odd weeks on the bestseller list. Questions? You can find me
lavishing appreciation on my great-grandmother’s bread knife (hand-carved
handle is wobbly, but the blade still cuts like a boss.) Or polishing my humble
but trusty stapler.
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