Can A Hoarder Also be a Minimalist?

Inspired by Beth Kempton's Winter Writing Sanctuary 2024, Making Space

I am a hoarder of ideas, of things often unspoken and very seldom written (until lately). A little corner in my mind formed to accommodate these things the moment I became a sentient being as Trekkies would say. I instinctively began putting items in this space to protect them and hide them from the world's judgement and callous comments. Over the years, I carelessly tossed parcels into that little corner with the best of intentions to resurrect them some day. But over time, this space became an airless vault with its contents moldering and scattered in clusters like refuse. How could I know that secreted in the folds of each tossed away idea and unattended thought were feelings and fantasies, good and bad, that busily composted this mess into something valuable, even nourishing?

In my outer world, I am a minimalist. I detest the busyness of any design, accessory, or crowdedness of space in my home or work area. Clean uncluttered surfaces are a breath of fresh, pure air and always feel like a draught of freedom. So, you can imagine, thinking about my little airless vault secretly fructifying without proper supervision, caused me a certain level of guilt over too many things left lying around undone and neglected.

Therefore, I’ve decided it's high time to open the vault, clean it…and let the resurrections begin.

I know that I must not employ sorting and discovery in this place like a purge (though purges are most satisfying). Instead, I will need to sift through each cluster of ideas carefully taking the time to acknowledge the messy, sticky things tucked between the layers – yucky stuff like uncomfortable feelings and abandoned intentions.

I suppose it will go something like this:

1. Enter the airless vault and leave the door open, prop it if I must so that it can no longer close tight.

2. Sift carefully though each cluster and take time to allow the ideas to rejuvenate with the influx of fresh air and loving attention.

3. Dispassionately release those that have moldered too long or upon close examination are too weak or archaic to survive.

4. Snatch up the good ones that have suffered long while being eaten away by negative energies and feelings of unworthiness.

5. Hold the resurrections in my heart until ready for release into the outer world. Allow them to take root and grow (this will require a disturbing amount of reorganizing and adding to my minimalist spaces as well, I now realize).

I approach this venture with a certain amount of trepidation.

God knows what might be uncovered down there. I take heart that I am cleaning up and clearing out space, but I worry how these little specimens will do upon being resurrected and brought into the light of day...I certainly hope there are no Frankensteins lurking down there in the dark.

Perhaps I shall take a little candle with me to help light the way. It will smell of Christmases past or maybe the lost meadows of childhood where flowers spilt their fragrance in summer rains and autumn dust devils befriended a lonely child that danced among them.

Wish me luck!