Everything Must Go!

In one of my posts, I speak of a cozy Saturday, where my house felt like a well-stocked curio shop, in its abundance of stuff. A week later, after the death of our beloved dog, Lafayette, the well-meant clutter gained a new dimension, as we were doing some cleaning around the house that was painful but necessary. Washing Lafayette's blankets and beds after she had become ill before she died was heartbreaking. At one point in the fourth day after she passed away, I became overwhelmed by all the stuff, the dust, the cleaning, and a deep sorrow welled up to hot tears streaming down my face. I let it happen, not fighting the grief or chaos around me that was really quite ordinary, but somehow, that day, felt looming in its size. Then , just as I thought the irritation of all the mess around me would make me want to scream, I looked at my husband calmly making waffles for us, dealing with a pile of dishes, and not minding the laundry that was stacking up by the washer,as I was trying to deal with our and Lafayette's laundry. All of a sudden, the whole scene became comical to me, and I told my husband and son the house looked like we were having a "Going Out Of Business" sale. "Everything must go!" I laughed. "Let's put a sign in the front yard." They laughed with me and I relaxed, releasing some of the stress of my sadness. I like things to be orderly, and tend to be a bit obsessive-compulsive. It occurred to me right then, that order can be very restrictive, very confining at a time when stress is already taking its toll. Looking around my chaotic house, I felt a rare sense of comfort in the disorder, the disregard for neatness and logical order, and the chaos felt , well, good at that particular moment.The universe is in constant flux, stars collapse, planets get swallowed up, asteroids collide, and out of this enormous chaos and disorder continues to grow a very orderly universe with predictable patterns and repetitions, all constituting life as we know it. Chaos is what makes order possible, and this realization somehow felt healing, soothing. Everything must go, everything, but the heartache of my loss. The physical chaos was a reminder to allow myself the emotional chaos of my sorrow, that cannot and should not be swept up, vacuumed, washed, stored, but felt and lived, every chaotic, painful, irrational, unpredictable speck of it, until the dust of the pain settled and and a new moon, or planet was born in the universe of my life's experiences.