If you have spent anytime reading my post you know that “space” is a recurring theme. I spent this past Sunday cleaning out our garage, something I do about once a quarter. I am not an accumulator of stuff, I am an if I think I need it I will keep it, if it can be recycled I recycle it, if it could serve someone else’s needs I donate it. Cleaning and cleaning out creates, you guessed it, more space.
Now when it comes to my garage I don’t organize and clean to make room for more stuff I do it because I am anal retentive, obsessive compulsive nut about having a clean garage. It is a place I spend a lot of time, working on projects, bicycles, drinking a handcrafted cold beer, or just hiding from a pissed off woman. Sadly, for my wife, I don’t have the same compulsive behavior about our house, or our bathrooms, it’s a sickness, I know.
I love the concept, the thought of space. I have never met anyone who felt like they had too much, certainly I know people who think they don’t have enough. Space, for me, is physical, mental and spiritual. I like my space for all three and I work hard, very hard, to not only maintain the space I have but to create more.
I am not a big talker, I am not mute, but if I can use 10 words instead of 20 to tell you something I will. I am also a VERY slow and thoughtful talker, which means, a lot of people try to finish all of my sentences for me. Along those same lines, I am also okay sitting in a room with others in total silence. I am always amazed at how uncomfortable this makes people feel. I don’t need to listen to someone talk just for the sake of talking, taking up space. Unfortunately I have several people in my family who love the sound of their own voice (another reason I keep my garage clean). The pollution they can create by flapping their lips, typically about nothing, is a crime in my eyes. I have a punishment in mind for this offense but for the sake of good taste I will keep it to myself.
Sunday was a good day, a cool rainy day. After spending four hours cleaning and organizing, I hauled several items to Goodwill. When I returned home the wife was gone, the garage was clean, and the rain was giving my garden a well deserved soak. I unfolded my work stool, popped the top on a very cold Left Hand Milk Stout and listened to the rain patter on the driveway. For thirty minutes I found some much-needed space, then my phone rang………
“I think about that ’empty’ space a lot. That emptiness is what allows for something to actually evolve in a natural way. I’ve had to learn that over the years – because one of the traps of being an artist is to always want to be creating, always wanting to produce.” -Meredith Monk