"I'd Like To Thank McDonald's" And Other Things I Never Thought I'd Say In 2020...aka: Ode To The Piano Forte

A new year is on the horizon.  Another journey around the sun, another year like any other...except HOLY CRAP NOPE.  THIS ONE WAS DIFFERENT!

2020 has brought a whole new level of trial by fire to my life, and obviously, I'm not alone there, It's just clearly worth noting. 

This time of pandemic isolation for me and my family has yielded some very needed deep introspection.  I started to really sort out what I wanted, who I want to be for this 4th decade of my life, and I decided to see my quarantine as "bonus time" in a sense.  Time for me to really dig deep into myself and clarify...tie up loose ends in there.  I had to quite my job, the first one I had since 2009, and I was back home, with three children, remote learning and doing all that full-time-SAHM stuff again after a short eight months of being in the out-of-home work force.  Everything stopped.  The chorus I had been singing with for four years had to cease gathering, and online coordination wasn't something we were equipped for, so my main creative outlet for the past few years was now, gone.  

Music is a huge part of who I am. 

 I have studied it for most of my life in some capacity.  From actually paying attention in elementary school music class with Ms. Hoskins, to joining the school chorus in third grade, to taking violin lessons in school, starting drama/musical theatre classes, and later piano and developing the typical mild obsession with Mozart that EVERY young person has at age 10 after watching Amadeus (what?) then studying voice professionally, studying Music Therapy for two years, culminating in a degree in Theatre Arts. 

All of those things are part of the story of who I am, but THIS story is about the piano. 

My first meeting with a piano was...I don't know because there was always one there.  The house I was born into came with one.  An old, broken, beautiful, never tuned, goth-looking, mess of a piano, in the basement.  

It didn't always look like that.  It had a black top and panel that covered the innards, but this was taken just before my mother sold the house and had to demo the old piano.  I now have an octave of the keys here with me for display.  

In our hay-day, I would go down there and bang and play and make up songs.  After seeing the movie BIG, I taught myself "Heart And Soul".  But even before that, there was an event that burned itself into my formative years' brain. In going back into myself, working out the shadows and whatnot, I found a little girl who sat face to face with envy for the first time.  

It was the 1980's. 

 I was watching TV...no memory of what I was watching, but there was a commercial.

THIS commercial.   

For McDonald's.  

I was SO mad at this little girl.  

There she was, in her frilly dress, having been given the luxury of piano lessons, something I suddenly NEEDED more than anything in the world but knew we couldn't afford at the time, and she got to have a RECITAL, and spent the whole time complaining and NOT enjoying the music???!!!  <scoff> 

I remember venting to my mother about this.  She tried to explain how stage fright was a thing, but I would have none of it.  I decided that I was going to learn that piece of music and ENJOY it, and never be an ungrateful brat about it.  EVER.  

Well, I did get to take piano lessons, with Mrs. Angie Cinelli, from 6th-8th grade.  I did learn Fur Elise, by Beethoven, and I even got to butcher it  perform it at my Uncle's wedding when I was 14 on my Aunt's request!  (I started in the wrong key, and had to attempt to transpose it on the spot because it didn't feel like an option at the time to restart as my lovely soon-to-be aunt was walking down the aisle to what turned out to sound more like the "Adam's family" version of the piece...but I digress...) 

I had a few more teachers and a lot more Beethoven and Mozart.  I would play on the piano in the high school auditorium when nobody was there.  I would play on the "do not touch" piano at the big mall my friends and I would frequent on weekends: a grunge looking me in a Tori Amos t-shirt over-layed with a  flannel and Converse sneakers would approach the giant baby grand in the East corridor of Roosevelt Field mall and bang out Rondo Alla Turk, then walk away. That was more or less the extent of my "risky" teenage behavior if you don't count singing show-tunes loudly with friends in playgrounds after dark.     

At some point when I graduated college and had moved in with my boyfriend...I no longer even had a piano to play.  After a few years of marriage and children, I found that I would sit down and play any time I was near a piano, but I couldn't practice or really play the way one should to hone a skill.  So a few years ago, I declared that all I wanted for Christmas was a piano.  I priced electric ones, and we made that a priority...because I realized that my children were growing up with less music, less opportunity for music than was acceptable in my opinion.  Having an old dilapidated piano in the basement growing up was how it really started for me, and they didn't even have that.  They didn't even know that mommy played the piano.  My in-laws didn't know that I played the piano.  But, to be fair, it has generally been a more solitary thing.  My, more private practice.  I sing with friends and whatever, whenever, I've performed in a chorus and in a few plays in the past few years...but I'm not skilled on the piano in the same, way.  I don't have quick sight reading skills.  I'm more like a very limited mediocre concert pianist who only knows a few pieces, but once I learn it, it's more or less "in there", so it's fun for me, and occasionally impresses my kids.  Mostly, it's just therapeutic.

  Then, this PANDEMIC hits the world, and suddenly, I'm home.  A lot.  BUT, I have a piano.  So, I started practicing.  I practiced multiple days a week.  I practiced for an hour at a time. I WILLINGLY PRACTICED SCALES!  I mused that my old teachers would finally have the answer to what was undoubtedly a question that ran through their heads at some point: "What's it going to take for this girl to practice every day???"...apparently, a season-long global pandemic quarantine!  

The reason I'm logging all this now is that I challenged myself to start SHARING my music again.  I love being on stage, but I never really liked performing piano in front of people...but I also hate being on video...so, I realized that I've become kind of a shitty "performing artist" if I can't bring myself to freeking PERFORM. 

 SO, my challenge is to start here, with the performing art I like to do LEAST in front of people, because I'm not even really "IN FRONT" of anyone.  I'm recording and posting.  Slightly less scary.  This is part of my homework to myself, really.  Breaking another barrier to my "best life" yadda yadda...but I DO hope whoever has read this far isn't horribly disappointed by this next part, now that I've built it up with all this backstory.  I'm also dedicating this to my mother, who found a way for us to pay that $10 a lesson,  and eventually convinced my Nonna to gift me a rented piano that actually worked so I could really play, because those broken keys on the old basement piano would leave me sore. You've been asking for a recording of this for about 27 years mom!  Sorry I'm late, but technology finally left me with no more excuses.  Oh...and special thanks to McDonalds.  If you hadn't made that infuriating commercial all those years ago, I may not have known what I wanted to conquer at such a young age.  I learned the piece when I was about 14, but it is still teaching me things at age 41.  

Presenting: my amateur performance of one of the most famous piano solos ever written...               <no pressure> 

Bagatelle No. 25 in A minor, commonly known as "Fur Elise", by Ludwig van Beethoven 

PJG

 Sometimes I stop, and just appreciate the moment ...the wind blowing, the sun shining, the children laughing...unknowingly at first, creating a bookmark in my life...

And I wonder if when years later, I remember those warm moments, those fuzzy feelings travel through time and are the reason I stopped to appreciate the moment in the first place.  

And the more bookmarks I leave, the more I find later...and I get to revisit those moments.  

It may be the opposite of post traumatic stress, which is a sort of time-travel of it's own. 

It's post-joyful gratitude.  

An Ironic Apothe-Precarious Incident

 A thing happened today, and I felt moved to share it because I'm afraid if I don't write it down, I'll recall it one day and think I made the whole thing up as part of some ironic nightmare musing, but alas, it did indeed happen.  

Prompted by the class I've been taking, I had a burst of nesting energy and motivation to reorganize and finally make a home for some things which have been collecting around my home.  I began a search on the internet marketplace for a glass cabinet hutch that I could use for my much needed store of herbs, oils, and otherly healing and witchy supplies. An apothecary cabinet, if you will.  I figured out exactly where I would put it, and searched locally with confidence that something would turn up within my price range.  

True to form, the innerwebs did not disappoint!  Within a day of searching, I found a piece about an hour away that fit my needs to a tee.  I messaged the seller, set up the appointment..."It's a white house and has some corn stalks on the porch!" she says. Okay.  Let's do this!  

I made my appointment for Tuesday, not remembering that it was election day...a BIG election day...the 2020 election day that I would otherwise be spending avoiding the television and the internet to try to NOT obsess and be anxiety ridden, so I was glad for a proactive distraction.  

I enlisted my eldest son for assistance and youngest child (who would otherwise be watching TV all day while her father works from home) into the car and we set off on our quest.  

I had taken measurements of the minivan to make sure the furniture described would fit, and I have a good reputation for judging spatial dynamics (ask anyone) so I felt pretty sure it would work out.  I even brought a measuring tape along too, just in case.  

After an hour drive, my GPS informs me that we have indeed arrived at the house where my new furniture is waiting.  "No.  No please, no." I say outloud.

"What?" says the 12 year old. 

"Oh my gods, please let it not be THAT house." I say.

Because there, where I had just arrived, and the nice lady voice in my car had assured me was my "destination", was a white house, COVERED, and I do mean COVERED, head to toe in TRUMP flags.  

I am not exaggerating. 

There was a red one.

A blue one.

A  PINK one that read "women for Trump".

"VETERANS FOR TRUMP"

"TRUMPETERS FOR TRUMP" (okay, I made that one up)

Lawn signs. 

House signs. 

A TRUMP bumper sticker, ON the front door window. 

There was even an "LGBTQ+ FOR TRUMP" rainbow sign that I have never seen before.  

THIS was the Disneyland of Trump signs, folks.  

I have NEVER seen a house with this many signs and flags.  

I was sitting in the driveway of the TRUMPIEST TRUMPERS THAT EVER TRUMPED...and I froze.  

I had a conflict here.  

Under most circumstances, I seriously would have just driven away and messaged them that I pass on the sale.  

No thanks. 

But, THIS was something I will be using for higher purposes.  If I buy this thing from these people, I will be paying it forward with the healing work that I do.  Right?  Yes.  Ugh.  

So...I decided that if this thing doesn't fit in my van, I'll pass and take it as a sign.  I won't make any further efforts here but if it fits, we're good.  And who knows, the person I was actually buying it from wasn't there, she said her "mother was home" so I figured, just breathe and go to step 2.  

I start to set up the Paypal on my phone while re-measuring the situation for how it will fit.  I was ready.  I've done this many times, actually.  

A woman and a man come out of the house.  

She is sporting a white TRUMP sweatshirt, featuring the image of an assault weapon.  

Awesome.  

He has a bandage on his hand, but has passive energy.  

I was not expecting anyone to come out, because this was the second purchase I've made during the Covid-19 pandemic, and it's not expected to interact when unnecessary.  I figure they've come out to make sure payment is made.  I assure them I'm trying to make that happen and I've got it figured out. 

"oh...I don't think it's gonna fit" the woman says.   

Nobody offered their help verbally, they didn't ASK if I needed or wanted help.  

They jumped in. 

No masks on.

She then approaches my minivan, and proceeds to CLIMB INTO THE SIDE DOOR to look in my van, where my 5 year old is sitting quietly, playing a game on the tablet.  I quickly approach her with an inquisitive look on my face saying something like "what are we doing...?" in a quiet voice...not threatening but clearly concerned and puzzled by her behavior.  

This woman backs up and looks at me saying "woah, I'm not trying to hurt your kid or something..." and walks off mumbling.  She then proceeds to huff off into the house saying "Well, I'm not helping THAT". 

<blink blink.> 

Wow.  It must be hard to be so easily offended.  

Okay then!  

My son and I begin to get down to work while the quiet and unimposing man continues to help, unasked, but respectfully.  I knew it would fit, these things just take finesse and patience, and measuring tape.  

"Do be careful with that hand" I said, as this man had a fresh and large bandage on one hand.  

"I cut off two fingers with a table saw" he said. 

"Doctors were able to save one and sew it back on". 

<blink blink> "Woah.  Well, speedy recovery!" 

After a few adjustments and seat squishes, we got it all in and even got the back hatch to close without issue.  

We thanked the man, and got into the car.  

I was kinda shaking.  

My son didn't understand.  

We drove off, and had a lengthy discussion about why I was struggling with that whole situation.  

It's not something easy to explain.  

"I'll be saging the crap out of this thing" I said to myself as we drove off.  

So yeah.  I managed to avoid the internet and the news ALL DAY on  THE MOST stressful election day of my lifetime...knowing there would be no clear and accurate president elect in one day, given the mail-ins and the record turn outs.  BUT...please don't think that I avoided reality for a second, because while it was STRONG affirmation of my need to pursue the healing work I am learning, it was also an epic dose of the humor of the universe in Seinfeldian proportions.  

The rest of the day was spent shaking my head and muttering to myself, "so, so many flags..." . 

Was this a day filled with great judgement calls on my account?  

I don't know...BUT, I promise, that remembering where this beautiful hutch came from will forever remind me of how important this work really is.  

I wish that family nothing but healing and love.  I don't know them, but I know a few of their choices.  Some were kind and helpful.  Others were invasive, defensive, and hostile...and they all were drowning in what are certified symbols of hate and disconnect.  

"I understand why you'd hate Trump" my son said,  "But why do you hate his supporters?"

"I don't hate anyone.  I pray for them, because they have forgotten that we are all connected.  That man was very helpful, but those flags aren't just political anymore.  It's so much more than that.  I know it's hard to understand". 

And it is.  This is hard.  And strange, and scary, and weird, but things will change, one way or another.  

All things do...and I hope to continue to learn how to be a part of that change.  

TERF Wars & Unforseen Fallout

So I learned a thing this week from an online conversation.
TW - Transphobia
...
...
There was a post about TERFs (which I had to google: Transphobic Exclusionary Radical Feminist) and apparently it's considered a slur? But the actual PRACTICE is what I find offensive (The assertion that the only "women" are female born women).

 Now, I'm a feminist...and I recognize the Patriarchy...but...
There are a lot of women who feel that trans women create another opportunity for misogyny, by getting all the attention they do and special treatment etc...(because of like 3 celebrities).  Since female-born women grow up in this culture, or whichever culture, and the journey comes with pitfalls as we all know...they resent that these "new" women get to just join the club. Also there is penis phobia obviously...and talk of safe spaces for survivors... Lots to unpack and valid concerns for survivors from a PTSD place...but still..not okay to deny someone's identity.

So It occurred to me that Trans women are refugees.
Female born women, biological women...we are the "citizens" of womanhood...born and raised here. Our Trans sisters are refugees from the war-torn nation of forced Manhood, trying to cross the border safely, and all I can think to say is "you are safe with me. I'll do what I can".  It's really that simple. 

I am not trans, but there are some amazing individuals in my life right now who are, and I could not imagine rejecting them or doing anything other than supporting them, because as women with lots of experience being women, we know...this isn't for the weak or trendy. This shit is hard core. If someone needs THIS and is ready to walk the world in these shoes? High fives all around. 

 I got your back.

We MUST recognize and educate about intersectionality.  We MUST discuss and open our ears to the multi-dimensional experiences women have from every angle; Women of color, single mothers, survivors, women in disability, women with chronic mental and/or physical illness, women in poverty, LGBTQ women & trans specifically, and the women who intersect any or ALL of these and really truly NEED support in the world we live in.  If we don't stand up for one another then we stand alone.  I refuse to allow #metoo to become #ME.  We are all connected.  These issues are all connected.  

Misogyny runs so deep we sometimes mistake it for our own sweat as it drips down our forehead, but it can be washed away if we just dive into the water together, and stop trying to fight over the damn floaty.  

Women can be defined a multitude of ways, and always have been.  Allowing ONE definition to dominate is actually a product of the patriarchy.  We know this.  Ancient cultures show us this.  Nature teaches us this.  We need to stop thinking so much and just listen.  Just hear people when they say "I just want to be who I am and live on this Earth and be respected" and say "Okay,  How can I help?". 

Why I Still Mourn The Loss of Robin Williams

We are coming up on the fifth anniversary of the day the world lost actor/comedian Robin Williams.
I never had the privilege of meeting him.  He wasn't a friend of the family, or a pen pal of any kind.  He was a famous person who existed on the television for as long as I can remember, but at some point for me, he became so much more.  Somehow, it wasn't until a friend shared something recently that I felt I could put words to my experience.

You see, as a child growing up with the ADHD experience in the 1980s, there weren't a lot of adults who understood my struggles, even the teachers at that time.   Though some may have been better with children than others, none of them had any concept or training apparently in the different ways of learning or how behavior was a window into a child's needs or inner world.  I never felt seen or appreciated by any of my early childhood teachers.  The only time a teacher seemed to notice me was in disapproving looks, and it wasn't until high school that I felt a respectful, reciprocal connection with a teacher...and then one betrayed me...but that's another story.   

I remember seeing Robin Williams on TV, whether he was playing Mork or doing stand up or playing grown-up Peter Pan, I felt an instant connection to him.  It was like he became my mentor just in existing as himself.  I had started performing on stage around age 7, and I knew he was playing a role when I saw him, but his energy was SO engaging and familiar to me as a fellow hyper-kinetic human and performer (and yes, I know some of those years he was on Cocaine...but I think you can see what I'm saying).  Here was this famous, hilarious, charismatic, hyperactive, successful adult...who was BELOVED by audiences around the world.  He was praised for being well rounded and multi faceted as an actor and as a person.  Every account of him personally is of his generosity and kindness to people he met, and his charity work with Comic Relief was a huge part of his life.

It wouldn't be a complete picture here either without noting that, in filling this need I had for a relatable icon, Mr. Williams was immediately added to what I later came to refer to as my "virtual surrogate father list".  I had a father, who I loved, but he was absent in some of the most critical ways, so like many people with a void in their role-model column, Robin was a prime stand in candidate...but it wasn't until I saw Dead Poet Society that he impacted my life in a more direct way.

The film is itself is one of my favorites of all time.  It portrays a group of high school boys at a New England preparatory school in the early 1960s, and their struggle to preserve themselves as individuals in a system determined to create elitist automatons.  Enter the "radical" new teacher, Mr. Keating; played by Robin Williams...come to bring the young men English literature with a side of life-altering inspiration.  There is more...but we'll get there later.

Now, being inspired by Dead Poet Society has an almost cliche` status at this point.  It was even the butt of a joke in an episode of the television show Friends.  We get it.  Carpe Diem!
But for me...as a young student of the theater with an already deep running respect for that man as an actor and public figure, the messages of that film stuck to me fast and hard.  It's a story almost entirely peopled with men and boys, but I don't think that even occurred to me because Mr. Keating's gentle leadership transcended gender and time and status.  He was just a brilliant teacher fighting the good fight, and an artist who passionately expressed every chance he could...and I knew that in whatever way I was able, that was how I wanted to live.

With a framed black and white photograph of Mr. Keating standing on his desk resting on my desk, I began my journey to become a teaching artist in theater.  My path has had many turns in the decades I have shared with the stage, and the hardest years by far have been the ones where I was not anywhere near one.  But now, as I find myself diving back into teaching and the performing arts full force, I am reminded of just how strong this connection really was...and still is.

I mentioned before that a friend shared something which prompted all of this.  We were at a gathering, discussing experiences as children and specifically, as children with ADHD brains.  We were the ones rolling on the floor when we weren't supposed to be, or staring out the window and missing ALL of the instructions for the things.  She was talking about having that good teacher...that teacher who understood you, who SAW you for who you were, and saw past all those little quirks, and saw your potential...and supported you.

I never had that teacher in a classroom.  Not then...as I explained before.  And when she said that, a light bulb went on in my head.  That's why Mr. Williams was so important to me.
When I saw HIM, I was "seen".  I was suddenly okay.  I was an acceptable human being, because look at HIM!  All the wisdom of Mr. Rodgers managed to get in my head somehow, but it was through Mr. Williams that I connected with the messages.
But then...he died.
He died by suicide.  He died by suicide after struggling with depression and addiction and inner turmoil his entire career.
And that is what kinda broke me...because I relate to some of that too.
Not a lot...but a little.  Enough to feel a wake-up call...because Robin Williams was amazing.  He was successful.  He was talented and skilled and educated and kind...and he struggled with mental illness...and it took him.
So it's a wake-up call.
Because if someone like HIM could be lost in a feeling of worthlessness, and loneliness, then non of us are immune.
So now, Robin inspires me in other ways.
I'm still moved by his performances, and his legacy...but I am also inspired to reach out to my friends who struggle with depression a little more.  I am reminded to check in with myself a little more, to not let the "mask" trick me into pretending I'm fine, when I'm really not.
To keep asking for help, and to keep connected to those who love me and lift me up, and to lift up those around me whenever possible.

That is what Robin Williams has given me.  That is why I still cry when I hear the Genie in Aladdin, or apparently even hear Will Smith sing the song he used to sing.  I still have deep sadness about the loss of my Mr. Keating, but I will continue to carry the messages he brought to us all in my heart every day:
"Carpe Diem! Seize the day...make your lives extraordinary"...because he did...and I will continue to stand on my proverbial desk so as never to forget: "when you think you understand something, you must look at it from angle."

Thank you oh Captain,
my Captain.

Why KonMari Method is Witchcraft and Why I Can't Wait To Start

For several years now, like so many others no doubt, I have been privy to the sporadic bursts of excitement from friends and acquaintances upon discovering the so called "KonMari Method" coined by Marie Kondo and explained in her book:
The Life-Changing Magic Magick of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing 
(Click here for more info) 

My earliest memory of the entire concept was from The Oprah Show.  I recall Oprah explaining how she had read this amazing perspective on what we bring into our homes and how our things should "spark joy" for us...that they should have beauty and inspire us, and if they don't we should discard them.  That simple premise influenced me tremendously.  For several years, I have kept that idea in mind every time I was tempted at a second hand store, and especially when something was "free".  After all, I grew up filling my bag with any free samples I could get my hands on, only to toss them into a box or drawer and never look at them again 99% of the time.  At some point, I did start to say "I don't need that" and walk past the free offer.  I started leaving soaps in hotel rooms and not hoarding the little shampoo bottles, and I always marked that as a milestone on my chart of "Adulting".  I saw this wonderful perspective of seeking beauty in every item you own as being a VERY helpful filter for me, especially as an ADHD brained individual where executive function is THE largest hurdle to creating positive structure for ourselves.  Having a direction and system of some kind that made sense to me is the only way I have ever been able to make real change in my own life. 

Even so, all the beauty seeking wasn't cutting it.  The reality is, I live with 4 other humans (more ADHD brains among them) and we have entirely too much stuff.  SO much stuff...and if moving twice in 10 years didn't show us this, nothing would have.  I'm aware...and I suffer every single day because of it.   I've been known to assert how I am "a very organized person trapped in the body of a messy person".  I SEE the mess, I HATE the mess, and I feel like I can't control the mess.

So this brings us to the title I popped onto this piece...and I'm sure someone out there is very confused as to where it came from.  I'm getting there. 

On my profile list of descriptive adjectives you may have noticed "aspiring Waldorf homemaker" and "Pagan".  Those are the two that are pertinent to this bit.  Over the years of being both these major lifestyle-influencing things, I have read quite a bit, practiced quite a bit, and felt inspired by all of it.  I read The Spiritual Tasks of the Homemaker by Manfred Schmidt-Brabant and would nod in deep appreciation and understanding of the value and sacredness of the household tasks; cleaning, baking, caring for one's things.  Yes!  Of course!  I SEE!  Then there were offerings to Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home, and Brigid too,  pouring over Flylady.org, (some wonderful ideas and habits there too...at first...) and Facebook pages that posted suggestions and questions...but no matter how inspired I became nothing actually made a big dent.  My enthusiasm would peak and then fizzle down as the gravity of ALL OF OUR STUFF fell on my shoulders.  I understood the WHY, it was the HOW that was just not adding up. 

Then I joined a different group. 

"KonMari in the Waldorf Home", started by a local friend of mine.  Great! Daily reinforcement of the philosophy and goals that I have for our home.  Images of homes FAR more tidy and beautifully laid out than my own, but in a hopeful way; a way that motivated me.  I had reached a point of acceptance of some of our limits as a family, but also maintaining some of my seemingly lofty goals of organization and home design.  I understood that the home is sacred, and our things are a reflection of our lives and our focus (or lack thereof) and that our accumulation of THINGS has created a barrier energetically and physically.  I could talk all day about how the energy flow of a house becomes dysfunctional when there is clutter and piles of things all over, because energy gets trapped...and this is not from me, it's ancient, basic Feng Shui.  These concepts have always interested me and yet for every guideline and "a-ha!" moment I've internalized, making the changes to our home was just not happening.  True, I'm one person in a household of 5 humans.  I am not accountable for the entire family, but I have to live here and I AM the chief of household management in my marriage, so implementing change is my domain.   So where to start?!?  I had all of these lovely ideas and goals, but no clear path to them.  

Then, the other day a friend of mine posts on Facebook about Marie Kondo's book and how it's awesome and "OMG everyone needs to read this".  In the thread she posts that she listened to it on Youtube, because the audiobook is there for free.  Well, now I have no excuse.  I couldn't imagine the time and effort to read it, because my time spent reading is on par with unicorn sightings these days, but this I could manage.  I'll throw it on my phone while I wash dishes!

Even though I had heard of this book since it came to the US, I had also heard a few things that turned me off of reading it.  Primarily, comments about how KonMari includes origami folding of clothes and socks.  "Really?  Isn't that a little....extreme?  I'm never going to do that" was my initial reaction.  But still, I am always open to the wisdom of "take what you like and leave the rest", so I won't dismiss an approach based on one element.

So the other day, I set up to wash dishes and I throw on the audiobook my friend posted, hoping for any wisdom that might improve our lives.

 I ended up listening to over an hour of the five hour recording.  I continued to put it on every moment I had where I could listen, and it took three days for me to finish.

So this brings me to why I am calling KonMari method "Witchcraft"...and I'll assume those reading this understand that this term not only has a positive connotation for me but I am using this opportunity to explain what Witchcraft IS to those who aren't so familiar.  I use these terms in the most universal way; the ritual practice of setting intentions and working with natural materials in order to harness energetic properties for working your will and the will of Spirit.

You see, the way Marie Kondo explains the relationship between the world and the human being has a clear understanding of ancient energetic wisdom.  She explains how she was a Shinto shrine maiden in her youth, and how this influences her practice and methods.  She talks about speaking to our belongings and how we interact with them, and how they have life independent of our relationship to them...but it was really only through the journey of reading the entire book that I had the context for how that all makes complete sense.

 For those of us who embrace and practice Earth Magick, Folk Magick, and/or otherly "Witchcraft", there is an understanding of sacredness to the natural world.  As Kondo expresses in the final pages of the book, her thoughts on the relationship to home and belongings is that we are meant to keep those connections as natural as possible, with as few barriers as possible. Through the practice of sorting and communing with our every worldly possession, we are forced to tap into this wisdom, and in turn we are awakened to the living relationship between us and our home environment.  The flow of energy in the home is something many of us are very much aware of and as we link our understanding of energy flow in life and the material world, we can start to see how each layer of our existence is living out it's connection to each other layer.  They say the state of one's room often reflects one's mental state.  Well, KonMari may very well be a way to tap into mental health.  As I progressed through this book I was quickly drawn to the memory of Mr. Miyagi in film The Karate Kid, not because of the Japanese connection, although it is easy to see the common threads philosophically, but specifically because of the Holistic method of "training" the body and mind together.  Those who've seen the movie may remember (SPOILER!) Mr. Miyagi has Daniel paint his house, wax his cars, sand the floor of his deck...doing all of this hard labor.  As he arrives each day and tries to do this work unquestioningly, Daniel does wonder why he is made to do all of this house work when all he wants to be learning is Karate.  We soon see that in his wisdom, Mr. Miyagi was training Daniel's muscles, mind, and entire self to be READY to perform Karate properly.  It is in this truly holistic way that I see the value in KonMari and why I have become excited at the thought of folding my clothes into perfect little packages.  There is a marked difference however between KonMari and Mr. Miagi's method, and that lies in how KonMari is working within a place of intention all along.  In explaining the folding technique, we are told that we should feel the fabric, love the cloth, and thank our clothes for the hard work they do for us.  This is acting on a level of awareness in the moment, even as we are also training ourselves to live every other aspect of our lives with gratitude and intention and I dare say, the more a person rolls their eyes at these suggestions, the more a person would benefit from doing them.  I found myself in tears as I received these instructions actually, because it was so profound to me how simple it all was, as though a child had come up with the idea.  The beauty of it just struck me, and I could see myself holding a joy-sparking t-shirt and expressing that joy back to it, and placing it away with that joy still reverberating...and the very real effect that might have on my life, rippling out.  How could I ever roll my eyes at that?

It is in this holistic philosophy that I see the true Magick of this approach.  Once we recognize how our physical actions effect our mental and psycho-emotional well being, we can no longer pretend they are not interconnected.  They are, whether we like it or not.  We cast a spell of sorts every time we carefully fold and express gratitude to our favorite sweater, and likewise when we carelessly toss another paper onto a pile on our messy desk.  What spell do we want to be casting?

 By minimizing our possessions and keeping only what truly serves us and brings us joy, we are creating a sacred space all around us, not just on a small shrine or altar in the corner, though many of us have those too.  This has always been my hope, I just never had the blueprint that made sense for me to create that space. The irony is, I have NEVER liked minimalism!  The perceived aesthetic of it...clean lines and white and black...is the antithesis of my style.  I like Boho and Tie-dye and textiles and color and mis-matched furniture that blends together in a fun and creative way...and even some Victorian influences.  My taste couldn't be farther from the modern, crisp image we have when we hear "minimalist"...but KonMari doesn't say I can't have all of those things!  It does however guide how I can refine my designs and spaces.

The greatest message really in my opinion is how she clearly, and in great detail, explains HOW to perform the method.  Someone finally told me where to start, and WHY all those other methods fail...and I almost missed out on this, because of information given out of context.
  Now, I have not yet begun the physical practice of KonMari.  I have been internalizing the "joy spark" mentality for a while and that is a huge part of it, but it's the practical side that I was lacking.  Lucky for me, I already was completely sold on thy psycho-spiritual aspect for years.  This book was essentially written confirmation of something I had visceral understanding of already, but no language or support in practicing.

If you know me well, and if you've been to my house recently, you may be thinking "Wow.  Annette sure talks the talk for someone living in a house piled with stuff!".  I mean, I hope not because wow, what kind of friend judges their friends like that! But the truth is I think this all the time, because I've been stuck.  I am more equipped to organize and manage our home than anyone else living in this house, and I've been stuck.  I hope that now, with a very clear checklist and language that really resonates with me, that I can move my family into a healthier and clear living space.

KonMari is said to take a minimum of 6 months, so given the nature of my home, family size, and known pace, I expect it will take a full year to do it right.  Clothing is first, and I will be blogging my progress here for accountability.  I've never been this excited to fold my socks in a different way, but here I am.  I'm ready to follow directions and take it all in, because all of those other charts and boxes were just not working, and this is designed to work for anyone who actually follows through and follows the rules.  It's the simplest massive overhaul of my home that I've embarked on, so here goes.

Wax on, wax off.

Trying out the KonMari fold before the big clothing explosion.

Happy Houseiversary! ~ Celebrating the first year in our home

Here we are...celebrating our:

It's hard to believe it's been a year since we moved into this amazing and ridiculous house.  We moved in the first week of August 2016, during the week that many of us Pagans celebrate Lughnassadh (pronounced Loog-nah-sah) or Lammas; the first harvest and the winding down of Summer.  It's a time to reap the seeds we've sown, and enjoy the fruits of our labors.  I realized too, that this is the week we moved to New Hampshire from New York 6 years ago, and ALSO the week my mother moved from my childhood home and started a new chapter in her life.  It is a fortuitous time for new beginnings.  This is our houseiversary AND our NewHampshireversary!

So much has happened and yet the repairs and updates and decor has been slow going, but we have three kids and some health bumps along the way, so no worries as far as I'm concerned.

After basic clean up, I set out to make the first real change to the house to make it OURS.
I painted the front door purple.  It was my birthday present to myself.  I LOVE IT.

BEFORE...

AFTER!!! 

For the front door, I used Modern Masters front door paint, in "Spiritual". (Click here for more info!) In some lighting it looks a little more blue than I'd like, but I wanted a deep bold purple, and it gives the effect I'm happy with.  This stuff is easy to work with and took a one day, no fuss no muss.  I did use over three coats though...BUT...I still have more than half a jar, so I can paint another door!  

Also, as the primary cleaner of said house, I am very in touch with how HUGE it is...given that it takes me a week to clean all the floors.  I only did that once.  Now, it's as needed, and spread out...because who has time for that.

The next job I tackled in design was my 5 year old's bedroom.  We called it: Project Neverland
This was the first birthday in this house, and I thought doing his room would be perfect.  It ultimately will be shared by the Bubs AND the Cheech, but for now, it's his room, and he wanted Peter Pan...SO I started pulling together what I had and what I envisioned.  The room is not 100% finished actually, but will be by his birthday THIS year.  I am waiting for a few more things to come in.
The basic update now is this:

BEFORE...

 ...AFTER! 

BEFORE...

 ...AFTER! 

BEFORE...

...AFTER! 

The map is my favorite part of this room.  I ordered a tan colored chalk board paint, and painted on the map, accenting with brown acrylic.  Then we took chalk and drew a little "treasure map" together.
The quote decal was ordered, and is actually from the musical Peter Pan, "So come with me where dreams are born, and time is never planned.  Just think of happy things and your heart will fly on wings forever, in Never Never Land" 

Our first winter here came shortly after we settled in, and we went BIG.  We ended up hosting the bulk of my husband's side of the family for Christmas along with my mother who had her first stay with us for the month.  We attempted to get a photo of all 10 grandchildren with their Grandmother...with some success!

We survived this HUGE housewarming event (with 21 people a dog and a cat!) and fully realized how ENORMOUS OUR HOUSE IS.  It didn't feel crowded.  21 humans.  In my house.

We rang in the new year, and survived our first winter, snow and ice...discovering a few housey blips along the way.  WATER was the theme of 2016 with needing to replace one of the pump tubes for the waterpump and a leak in our beautiful bay window which we have patched at the moment, but needs to be completely ripped out.  All that aside, we've been enjoying the seasons the land we now call home.

We planned and executed our first BIG birthday party in-house, not the first birthday had here, but the first time we utilized the space for birthday celebration.

SPRING finally arrived, and as expected in most of New England, it lasts about 2 weeks and then Summer hits!
I LOVED investigating our property every day to find what new flowers would appear, naming the plants and shrubs around the house, and finding new birds and berries around.

Then came SUMMER...and the summer project!
My sister came to visit again, same time as last year.  Last years she helped us obtain our HUGE couch and transport it here.  This year she helped us get the deck railing put in so our homeowners insurance wouldn't penalize us for not having a guard rail on the lower deck.

My sister is not in these pics, but I assure you, she did most of the grunt work on this project.  It was a huge help.  I managed the basic design and she executed our adjusted plan fabulously.  Cheap and efficient railing.  Boom.

A few more summer moments, and we are up to date! 

So here we are!  We have lived here one year, and made a pretty good dent in making it our own.  I aim to paint at least 2 more rooms before our next houseiversary, and really setting up the den, and hang family pictures throughout the house as I frame and prep them again for the space.  

Thanks for catching up with us and all of my goings on.

~Namaste~