For most people, getting organizing starts with a big, necessary purge. Out go old, unread newspapers and magazines, photos of people you don’t recognize, broken blenders and ancient bank statements. What remains are the treasures—precious because they are useful, loved for their beauty or (best case scenario) both. The most fulfilling part of an organized life is uncovering that strong sense of identity: This is what I find useful. This is what I find beautiful.
There was a lot of clutter shaming going on in the last decade, when books by The Minimalists Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus and Marie Kondo advised readers to get rid of as much as they could possibly live without. I talked to a woman back then who said that after reading Kondo she sold all of her books. Then she regretted it and slowly started buying them back. That woman missed an essential part of Kondo’s philosophy: does the item spark joy? In other words, were her books a positive element adding to her lifestyle and identity? If she’d taken her organizing a bit more slowly, she could have checked in with herself to see if each book brought her joy or could be sold.
The woman who sold her books also forgot another important component of being organized: know thyself. If the organizing idea or system isn’t right for you, not only is it not going to stick, but the process will be a waste of time, energy and money. Some of us are going to feel organized, in balance and happier with a little more stuff around us.
Have you ever noticed that certain homes are filled with beautiful things and they don’t feel cluttered at all? Instead they manage to inspire and delight. This is especially true when each item has a story—you can sense it even without knowing the story.
I recently bought the book “Home,” by Ellen DeGeneres about the many homes she has lived in and decorated. Ellen likes to decorate a house, live there a while, and then move. The cool thing is that in each of her homes you can see a lot of the same furniture, art and objects placed with care even as the rooms and the architecture have changed. Since she chose the items because they spoke directly to her, they remain relevant and her collections look curated, not cluttered.
There is a difference, too, between a minimalist home that is relaxing, comfortable and almost spiritual and one that feels uptight, rigid and cold. The former is the home of someone confident is his choices and usually what is there is made from high quality materials. A great deal of thought is taken with the choice of every bowl and end table.
The latter has an element of uncertainty, as if the person had never asked himself the question, “What do I desire? What do I like?” One minimal space can feel abundant and another impoverished.
I believe we have a sixth sense that tells us when someone is in the metaphorical driver’s seat of their own life. The conscious choices—to have or not, to place something here rather than there, to be bold with color or quiet and neutral—can be felt. I can’t think of a single occasion in twenty years that I have finished a session with a client and they haven’t remarked at how powerful, in control, balanced or confident they feel. All those conscious decisions that create an orderly space will do that for you.
When organizing, take your time and make decisions that are authentic to you. Watch out for rationalizing, for example: it was so expensive (so I should keep it), it was so cheap (so I should let it go), it’s your only red one, you might fit into it someday, the 80s are coming back and it might be in again, your grandmother gave it to you, etc. The only criteria should be you either need it or truly love it and want to keep it.