The Japanese house is known for a lack of clutter, helping to create a sense of calmness in the householder and the visitor alike. We often think that the primary reason for this is a Zen like minimalism in their homes. The rooms have only a few objects in them and each one has a quiet kind of elegance. There is another secret to the lack of clutter in Japanese rooms, it is the practice of giving everything a home and returning something to its home immediately after it’s used. It is relatively less understood compared to the practice of minimalism, but it is perhaps just as important. I’ve been practicing my own version of this for a few years now. Before going to bed at night, I arrange things in their right place, so that the rooms of our house will quietly greet me when I first go downstairs in the morning to make my coffee. It is a small practice, and I commend it to you.

Well and good, but couldn’t this practice be applied to other aspects of my life? That’s a good question. In considering it I’ve come to the conclusion that the most cluttered space in my life is not anything outside of me, it is my mind. The associations of my mind are like a low end tourist shop in a resort town, with all nature of bric a brac piled high, a lot of what might kindly be called souvenirs, but more accurately should be called junk. T shirts with stupid sayings stacked next to artificially scented candles with the name of the town on the container. What a place.

Just so, inside my mind I have a constant stream of associations about events long gone or events that will never happen, piled up together along with considerations of imagined slights and insults, imagined failings and imagined successes, all appearing one after the other. What a mind.

How would I even begin to declutter this mind? A place for everything and everything in its place certainly doesn’t apply. But what if instead I were to substitute the idea of a time for everything and everything in its time? What if I were to ignore the urge to clutter up my mind with past and future imaginings? Just to be clear, thinking about the past and future can often be necessary and valuable, it can lead to useful learnings. But what if I were to ask myself, does what I’m thinking belong in my mind right now, or is it simply adding to the clutter?

Posing that question to myself again and again might make my mind a much quieter place, one that would be more of a pleasure to inhabit. Maybe it would be worth giving it a try and see?

Comments are welcome