… empty desk, empty mind?
1.
Ms. S. blames — explains, please … — her need to organize, put things in their place, and maintain order on being a Virgo. This may be a rationalization, but it’s an entertaining, intriguing, and occasionally maddening one. Two weeks ago she looked at the book shelves, full of books, almost overflowing, little if any room left for newly acquired volumes, and she bemoaned us having too many books, not enough shelves …
… and a day later in the office I cleaned out one short bookcase, moved it to another part of the room, and started repopulating it, along with throwing out some things that had long outlived their usefulness. Room for more books! I thought. Book bookshelf space! I prided myself. Less junk! I purred while rubbing my fingers together like a Bond villain. “Put it back!” Ms. S. implored. “I hate change!”
2.
This morning, after sleeping in, I cleaned dishes with almost Zen abandon.
What a misuse of that term, belying an utter misunderstanding of the practice. But it’s shorthand.
And so I cleaned, and the kitchen counter and sink looked much better. Tidier. Ready for me to dirty again. There’s the dialectic and the cycle. And waffles were made.
Or I have other work to accomplish, not so much chores as real, long-term, “important” tasks. And to put them off, to effectively procrastinate but rationalize to myself that I’m not procrastinating, but, rather, being productive, I clean and tidy. I reorganize shelves, sort by color or size, label and belabor. It is always darkest before the dawn; always cleanest before the deadline. I have one sort of document spread across two or three hard drives, organized on each several different ways. Wouldn’t it be nice to normalize the representations? Catalog them exactly once? Bring order to chaos?
3.
Both of these pathologies are faulty.
What we really want is a system that organizes itself. Homeostasis. Think of your thermostat, your toilet. When it gets too hot, the system cools itself down; when it’s too cool it warms itself up. When the water drains it refills until it is just right. These mimic aspects of life. Plants that grow the right size with little tending. Even foods that stabilize themselves … vinegars and yogurts and breads and brews. When in homeostasis we eat when hungry and stop when sated. The “organic.”
In contrast with so much that is mechanical we are tinkering and fine-tuning far too frequently. Not tinkering to improve, but to repair. More and more boundary cases and exceptions, systems that become more complicated than that which they regulate or contain.
4.
My desk contains a half dozen or so hard drives, a laptop computer, a sub-woofer and two small speakers, a couple USB hubs, two coasters, a coffee cup, a spray bottle (either for watering plants or for discouraging cats), four books from the same publisher, stacked, and a sketchpad. That’s on the surface. And there is one cubbyhole and two drawers, the former filled but organized, the latter two more patches of weeds than gardens.
The kitchen is roughly, grossly arranged. Above the range is the coffee, beside the range in cupboards the dishes. Above another counter the dry, packaged goods, to the left spices and baking items. Below the counter mixing bowls and miscellaneous items on one side; over to the left baking dishes, sauce pans, skillets and the like. But within a cupboard? Only those containing glasses, dishes, and silverware maintain real order; the others contain items more or less tossed together, the most frequently used up front.
Sometimes I stand in front of a cupboard and stare, looking for something and unable to find it. I could blame the clutter and confusion. Other times I stand and stare, stare through the debris, and in the confusion put 2 and 2 together to get 5.
