Return of the Miracle Worker

Four years ago this month, I had the miracle worker come to my house and set things right. I called her the miracle worker then because it seemed to me to be miraculous that she could get done in a day what would have taken me months to accomplish.

Lo, this random crap:
the miracle worker
holds a telephone
made from a Batman-logoed
tennis shoe.

She came back for one day this week, and again did that which I simply could not have done. She simply has an ability to focus that I don't have.

There were a few changes this time, however. The most significant was that I had realized, as mentioned previously, that I could not get the house livable by simply throwing out trash and rearranging and organizing what was left. There was simply too much stuff. So even non-trash items had to go.

I made an agreement with her that I would let her throw away things, and I would not challenge her decisions or bring things back in after she had thrown them out.

The friendliest ghost I know.

So two big bags ended up on the curb, and I rescued only one thing – the glow-in-the-dark Casper the Friendly Ghost you see at right. I don't know why I felt compelled to save it; it wasn't a gift or a childhood toy – just a promotional doodad from that movie that came out about fifteen years ago. But I've had it all that time, and I got some pleasure from hanging on to it.

As for the rest of it, I have no idea what she threw out. The bags went in the trash can without me looking at them.

This represents a change in my view of my personal possessions. I finally realized there isn't a single thing in this house that I 'have' to have. It's all optional.

I realized that I had come to view many of my possessions as components of my identity. I have since learned that a lot of hoarders/clutterers view their identity and individuality through their possessions.

I finally decided that my 'identity' is as disposable as anything else in this house. It doesn't mean a thing to say, "I'm me," and therefore I don't need a bunch of stuff around here to daily prove to myself that it's true. "Me" is just another pointless possession – one that isn't even tangible, like Casper the Friendly Ghost is. 'Me' is just a concept – a thing floating around in what I still think of, for purposes of convenience, as 'my' mind. As is 'I'.

(I could awkwardly recast all these sentences to get rid of the personal pronouns, and they would be more accurate from a Buddhist perspective. But they'd be unreadable, so I'll do what ever other Buddhist does and continue the conceit for the sake of convenience.)

In addition to all the stuff that Kat the Miracle Worker got rid of, I have given away a goodly amount of other stuff. Last year, Ms. HRP helped me get rid of bag after bag of clothes. That included a plastic tub full of more than 200 pair of socks that I had boxed up back in 1999.

Having gotten rid of all those clothes, I was able in recent weeks to give away a chest of drawers that had been parked in the middle of the dining room for about a year. I gave away a coffee table I bought twelve years ago and had not used in ten years. I gave away a bunch of bed linens, never opened, and got rid of the cabinet I had bought to hold them. This weekend, Tall Ed came by and took about a dozen history and current events books that had been on my shelves.

And after all that, the house is still packed with stuff. A lot more needs to go.