Seven Cargo Ships

Life amidst the mess.

Our house looks like seven cargo ships crashed here in the night.
There’s mess everywhere.
Not cute mess. Not, instagram “mess.”
Boxes. Pine cones? Rags. Dirty laundry. Clean laundry that looks suspiciously like dirty laundry. Somehow, no sign of my heat pack. No piece of kitchen equipment has been reunited with any of its corresponding parts. Who gave the three year old the sticky tape?!? Why do we own so many pants?!? WHERE IS MY HEAT PACK?!?!?!
We’ve just moved house. And the unpacking is enough to have me just whack a sign out the front saying ‘Op Shop,’ and be done with the lot of it.

I knew this was coming, of course. It’s just that I thought it was going to play out differently…
I thought we would move in and we wouldn’t be able to relax or do anything enjoyable until everything was packed away. A way of thinking that’s a product of all that well meaning ‘motivational’ advice about how your mind reflects your space, and if you want to be productive or peaceful - you need to own zero things and your home should be spotless at all times and you should clean the whole house before you go to bed every night. I scrunch my nose at this kind of advice, but perhaps it got into my system anyway, despite this top of the line security system.

As it turns out, we haven’t gotten far with the unpacking. And yet, we’re having a really lovely time. Jarrod and I sat up the other night painting and cutting and sticky-taping things for Valentine’s Day. We’ve each had much needed magnesium baths. I made a chocolate mousse from scratch yesterday. The kids have spent about 40 hours in the sand pit. Halo made a nature garland for her room with my sister. I topped up a garden bed and mulched it ready for Autumn planting (well… I instructed everyone else in the family to top up the garden bed and mulch it ready for planting. I’m growing a human being from scratch ok? And my feet are sore. And I’m also a supremely accomplished instructor. People don’t give me enough credit for how good I am at instructing, in fact.) And the kids have excitedly marched every single visitor out the back gate to see the fruit bats at the park.

Things feel good. We feel close. We’re having fun.
Now I’m wondering whether we’ve been relying a little too much on our environment to dictate how we engage with one another and ourselves. If we’ve been waiting for the dishes to be done and the laundry to be away and the counter to be clear before we allowed ourselves to really see each other. To really be with each other.

I wonder if I’ve also been waiting for the less visible messes to clear, before I allowed myself to observe the wonder within.
For the anxious tendencies to clear before I allowed myself to acknowledge the strength and beauty of my own Mothering.
For all of our issues to resolve before acknowledging the strength and beauty of our Marriage.
For my fears to abate before I took a leap and invested in the meaningful friendships that are waiting for me.

I get the idea. Sometimes I need my work space to be clear before I can start a new project. Sometimes I can’t write a word unless the laundry is hanging on the line to dry. I resent starting dinner in a cluttered kitchen.

But being present with my people can’t be persistently pending.
(Go on. Read it again aloud. Turn it into a rap. It’s irresistible.)

Life has to happen amidst the mess.
Family has to happen amidst the disorder.
Ambition has to happen amidst the unknown.
Sometimes it might be that the mess is adding to our tension and overwhelm.
Of course.
But I wonder how often it’s our thoughts about what things are supposed to look like that are preventing us from dropping into our being.

Our kids have this gorgeous book called ‘Peepo’ written by Janet and Allan Ahlberg. It’s one of my favourites. Mostly for the realistic illustrations that exude simplicity despite the chaos of family life in a small home. It seems to be set somewhere in the 1940’s, if I was to guess. And it’s one of those touch stones I talked about a while back. A book I turn to, to remind me that life and creativity and ritual and relationships don’t need immaculate conditions to exist richly and abundantly. A depiction of life pre-social media when people were allowed to have homes that appeared lived in.

Peepo. By Janet and Allan Ahlberg.

You can enjoy a relaxing cup of tea at a table full of pencils and paper from the kids’ last great idea.
You can sleep deeply in a bed with clothes on the end of it.
You can hug enthusiastically when there are still unresolved issues.
You can dream new dreams even when your space and heart are noisy.

Your stuckness might be less about the mess itself, and more to do with your relationship to the mess.
And your relationship to yourself as someone capable of creating mess.
As someone who is sometimes too tired to do anything about it.

The mess is neutral, really.
Inevitable and often necessary, for deep exploration and involvement in the invaluable areas of life. Art. Beginnings. Relationships. Building. Nature. Birth. Endings.
It’s what it becomes when it collides with our current circumstances and beliefs and capacities that really affects us.

Maybe with this in mind, we can be conscious that sometimes we need to clear the space, for the health of our minds, bodies and spirits.
And sometimes, we can host life amidst the mess. We can be ok with being ok when things aren’t in order, and there are puddles on the floor.

There is nuance, despite the black and white prescriptions we’re given.
And we have it in us to discern in each situation whether we need to do some much needed clearing, or to sit atop that pile of sun-hats and laugh with our nearest and dearest.

Yours from the wreckage,
Lysette