I firmly believe that a woman’s state of mind, body, and soul can be determined by looking at the state of her purse, her home, her car—anything that is near or dear to her. I have found this to be true in my own life, and Georgia concurs. She told me all about the purse theory, which jives with my own house and car theory.
There have been many times when my house has gone to hell, or my purse has been in shambles, or my car has looked like a moving garbage can. I seem to be rather out of sorts during these phases, in all areas of my life, and I begin to lose focus and a sense of purpose, too. I start spiraling out of control and cannot stop the landslide of discontent, and meanwhile my personal items and places are reflective of this phenomenon. Too many receipts and keys are thrown in my purse. I neglect to sweep or vacuum or do the dishes once too often. Or I simply toss my empty fast food bags on the floor of my car, thinking I’ll deal with it all later, but there’s never a later during these phases. There are plenty of delays and maybes and mini bursts of intention, but nothing more.
Nothing, until I get the cleaning and organizing itch and decide to fix everything up. I have these moments of clarity where I want and need to have everything clean, tidy, and organized, and I can almost hear a
click, like a lock being turned or a button being pushed as I become more organized. My mind and body are usually in sync with the emerging order of my dwellings and possessions, and I feel positive and happy as I work. Suddenly I am able to sit on my couch again and not have dog hair all over me, and I can find my sunglasses in my purse without wading through wads of paper, and my car isn’t a scary, smelly, crowded place to be. I am at peace again, internally and externally. I can sit down and breathe and be content with the lack of chaos around and within me, and be in a state of nirvana, if only for a breath of time.
(Photo courtesy of Fotosearch)
