Flying, I learned chaos is trying to organize clutter that I do not love, need or use. Chaos was how I lived my life. Chaos was also how I lived my holidays.
Flying, I see the unmistakable parallel of being unable to release the past. The chaos of my house was keeping too much. The chaos of holidays was giving too much.
I gave to virtually everyone I ever knew in the same way I kept everything I owned. Keeping all that I owned had ever been, had ever done. Giving to all I had loved, had ever known, had ever done me a kindness. It’s too much to carry. It can’t be organized. The same chaos that overwhelmed my house overwhelmed December.
House chaos, holiday chaos – both are driven by perfection. Perfect, remembering every person from my past. Perfect, in the giving to avoiding failure and guilt. Perfect, in keeping every approved, predictable tradition of all of the past. Unable to say no, I could not say – I’d like to end this holiday tradition. Unable to release what I had outgrown, I could not say, I’d like to be freed of this expectation this year. Unable to change, I could not say – I’d like to try something new.
Last year, my first Flylady Christmas, sick through December and in a financial bind, the decision to “release” was made for me. I gave only to my immediate family with whom I was spending Christmas Day. To my closest friends I made a telephone call in the days before Christmas. It was one of the nicest holidays I ever had.
Flying is the blessing of knowing that clutter is clutter – in the house, in a holiday. Need, use, love, in what I keep, in what I give, the house becomes my simple sanctuary. The holiday, a joy. The real peace of the holiday is in the release.