Pollyanna Plays Around with Chaos

Lyda here.

Check out this post over at A Fly on the Wall. I love that she is brave enough to show us her laundry pile. I love that she says, “We all pick and choose what areas of our lives we’re going to really work at, and there are parts of our lives that we decide can be disorganized…”

And it may surprise y’all to know that I agree with her. Yes, me, Little Miss Tidy.

Everything cannot be perfect organization / peace and harmony / aligned with the stars. No matter what, parts of our lives are going to be messy part of the time. Some parts of our lives are going to be messy most or even all of the time.

But even if the reason for the mess is a good one – like you hate folding clothes, or you have the flu/kids/pets/roommates/a life – there is an undercurrent of guilt associated with messy.

I say, screw that. Guilt we don’t need.

Give yourself permission to be messy sometimes.

Besides, some things are supposed to be messy. Sex. Birth. Divorce.

Junk drawers.

Creation and destruction are always messy – have you seen This Old House? Have you seen Jackson Pollock painting a canvas? Remember finger painting?

When I teach art classes, which I sometimes do – I call it Creative Play, which encourages people who don’t think of themselves as artists to come play and then they find out that they are indeed artists, because everyone is an artist, some of us have just forgotten… but I digress, stepping off soap box now – I always tell people to come in old clothes that can get painty and wet and grubby. We’re going to make a mess, so wear your play clothes.

Remember when you had play clothes and “good” clothes? You still need play clothes. Clothes you can be messy in. Clothes that inspire you to be messy.

And everyone should have times and places where they allow themselves to be messy.

Because a lot of the really great things in life… sex, rock & roll, love…

chocolate…

are a mess.

At least they are when you do them right.

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