We collect things. Our memories are given shape by objects, artefacts, keep-sakes, souveniers. It is only when an object looses its personal meaning and has no other purpose to perform that it becomes clutter.
This morning I took stock of our belongings. I dragged D's magazines out from under the bed and sorted them into neat piles for him to look at when he gets back tonight.
There are no monsters under our bed - only dust, old newspapers, and the bit of the floorboards that we forgot to paint...
I am in no way better in keeping my room tidy. My desk is too full to work. I can' think when the objects around me start cluttering up my brain.
I need space to breathe. But where will things live after they get moved from their temporary homes?
What is there to do when the bookshelves are full?
And so are the yarn drawers?
There is a balance between clutter and minimalism. Our home will never become a minimalist haven, and nor would I want it to, but some calm and empty space is necessary for the mind to rest and to stretch.
Other series are in the Self Portrait Tuesday Blog