As you may have gathered from some of my previous posts (especially this one and this one), we are moving house.
In fact, we moved house yesterday, and now exist amid a confused welter of furniture and boxes. Everything takes twice as long as usual, because each thing you need is in a different box, and the box’s label is probably not closely related to its contents.
Needless to say, with all the insanity of the past month (of which moving was but a part), I have fallen prey once more to the ravening beast that is procrastination.
I have a secret weapon.
Well, it would be secret if I hadn’t told everyone who would listen, and I am now telling you:
Mondays.
The trick is to not work them.
Not paid work, that is.
As of now, I work Tuesdays to Fridays at the DDJ. Saturdays are for housework, Sundays for rest and Mondays for writing.
I am hoping that I can still make it to the end of the first draft by the end of the year. I’ll have to do the calculations (and find which boxes my writing stuff is in) but I am hopeful.
Or to be more accurate, moving household – the respective houses are staying put. Inasmuch as anything stays put when we keep having earthquakes over 6.0 on the Richter scale.
Yes, the Caped Gooseberry and I are moving house(hold), in just a couple of weeks. It had been a possibility for a while, but it wasn’t settled until a week ago. So now we have two weeks to get everything sorted and ready to go.
I’ve got leave from the DDJ for the day before we move (I’m not completely insane), but other than that I’m working full time until the day itself (like I said, not completely).
It’s not as though I’ve never done it before, I moved house frequently through most of my life. We once moved three times in three days, and I was fourteen before I spent twelve consecutive months in the same house.
But things have changed since then. I grew up, I got married, and I got furniture. Time was I had a bag of clothes, a box of toys and my school stuff. That time is gone.
On the other hand, I am (for the first time) going to have movers pack for me. I have no idea how you move house without doing your own packing – just as I have no idea how you do a thorough spring-clean without moving out (doesn’t all the stuff get in the way?).
So, what are your tips for keeping sane while moving house(hold)? And what’s a low-stress way to sort out your stuff and prune the dead wood away?
This month proved a struggle, looking at abundance – primarily in terms of material abundance – when all I seemed to abound in was phlegm. Such Fun.
I think Julia Cameron is really on to something here: “For many of us, raised to believe that money is the real source of security, a dependence on God feels foolhardy, suicidal, even laughable.” (p.105)
Consider the wildflowers…
I was raised by two people who were most definitely dependent on God rather than money, and I still struggle with wanting to be financially secure all the time, not to risk having nothing to fall back on.
“We have tried to be sensible – as though we have any proof at all that God is sensible…”
“Snowflakes, of course are the ultimate exercise in sheer creative glee. No two alike.” (p.107)
Dare we dream that God has something better for us than we have at present? Not necessarily something easier, or safer, to be sure, but better?
Now, Cameron and I do differ in places. She characterises common belief as “Hard work is good. A terrible job must be building our moral fiber.” (p.106)
And you know what? I think hard work is good. I think a terrible job can build your strength, your endurance. I think I have become a better writer by having to struggle to write. I’ve had to ask myself – how much do I want this? I’ve had to develop discipline, and you can’t tell me that’s a waste of time.
But that doesn’t mean that the Dreaded Day Job is all there is, in perpetuity. People don’t keep going to school once they’ve passed their last exams. Soldiers don’t stay in basic training forever.
But here’s what scares me: once you leave training is when the work really starts.
And here’s another thought: your dreams and God’s dreams for you aren’t necessarily the same dreams (although they can be). But given a clash, God’s dreams are always better. And bigger. And scarier, because we don’t think we can do it, and he knows we can (with his help), and he’s just got to keep pushing us til we reach the place where we’re prepared to try.
An acorn may be content to become a modest shrub, but God will not be content until he has made it an oak.
You can’t out-dream God.
Cameron moves on to discuss the idea of creative luxury – not wallowing in plutocratic plushiness, but allowing yourself those non-utilitarian things which feed your soul. Things that make you feel rich in life – doesn’t have to be expensive. An old LP of great music. A monthly packet of chocolate biscuits. Really nice paper to write on, instead of a ratty old exercise book. A beautiful cup and saucer, second-hand.
I freely admit that I didn’t do most of the exercises this month. For some reason, this is the month with all the practical stuff in it. Go outside and find five interesting rocks. (I have bronchitis.) Find five flowers. (It’s winter. Plus I have bronchitis.) Bake something. (It’s winter in the kitchen too.)
Things that I didn’t do but still intend to once I recover: purge 5 old ratty items of clothing; send 5 postcards to friends you’d like to hear from; make some changes to the [cluttered, messy] home environment.
I can’t decide whether to go for this:
or this:
Dreaming too big? Mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow.
And DDJ – your days are numbered. Even though I don’t know the number yet. God’s got dreams…
