Buried Treasures

Well, by now I guess you all know that I write. I always wrote. It was my sanity.

It was my quiet place amid loud voices and my friend in isolation. And it turned out, turns out, that it is my only path to peace when loved ones die or hearts are broken. So those essays and poems become memories and glimpses to places and people that simply cannot be recaptured.

Back in February when I stopped working and decided to try and do this full time, I joined a writers’ group. As that group developed and grew stronger, I began to revisit old stories and ideas with new passion. The only problem was that a lot of those stories had been misplaced or lost. For a writer, this is like losing a kidney. I would comfort myself and say that those essays and poems belonged to a different person – a bitterly sad young woman that I scarcely recognized now. But it was hard to accept that I would never see the poem that won my high school poetry contest when I was seventeen, or the very beautiful piece I wrote about my grandmother’s bungalow in Rockaway Beach.

Then one day, as I was in my own bedroom closet, a place I literally visit almost every day, I began to sort through clothes and complete the assignment that my friend, Debbye Cannon (the SMARTcut expert) had given us in our Shortcut to Serenity teleseminar. I had bristled at this assignment when she gave it to our tele-seminar class. I was ready to take on the world, and the simple act of, “Start with yourself. Start with your day-to-day things, like the jewelry drawer, and makeup and shoes,” just didn’t fit the bill. But Debbye had said that by making those changes, we would reclaim hours in our day and have TIME to tackle the rest of the world.

So I began the process of cleaning out my closet -- with three receptacles assigned by Debbye: Toss it, Give it, Store it – and if it doesn’t fit, or you haven’t worn it in a year, make sure it goes in one of the first two boxes. The rule of thumb was: Don’t keep it hanging there taking up space. Worse for me, often those clothes simply don’t fit any longer, and they hung there like some mean-spirited specter constantly saying I was too big. And the “bottom line” (no pun intended) is that we all deserve a wardrobe that is easy and beautiful – not a closet that stands there mocking us.

And so, hanger after hanger, dress after dress, I was reminded how good it feels not to search frantically through “closet chaos” every time I needed to put on a skirt or a nice pair of slacks.

You can probably guess where this story goes… way in the back of that closet, in a milk crate on the floor, covered by an old orange knitted poncho from 1988 (I am not kidding), and a pair of size ten navy blue velour gauchos, was a pile of twenty-five-year-old notebooks.

Kicking out chaos isn’t just about throwing out the old and organizing my home and my family, it is about unearthing bigger truths – like never being anyone’s secretary again – and creating room to breath and room to grow. And where my old dresses once stood and mocked me, my old poems now stand to encourage and inspire me. Yes, they belonged to a distant time, but that girl, well maybe she’s not such a stranger after all.

Good luck unearthing your own buried treasures and old friends -- and kicking out your chaos! Mary Agnes Antonopoulos (Mary Vetell)

If you need a hand or a push to get started, be sure to visit SMARTcut expert, Debbye Cannon’s website http://www.organizingwithoutagonizing.com/.


Visit all of my blogs:
http://www.lifeinmonroeny.blogspot.com/
http://www.freelancemaryagnes.blogspot.com/
http://www.fatgorgeousass.blogspot.com/
http://www.organizingwithoutagonizing.blogspot.com/