Chaos theory

The key to success is organization - you can hear that from seminars on self-employment, articles on working freelance, even cooking shows and parental advice columns. But many of us are left-brain pegs trying to function in right-brain holes (or is that right brain vs. left brain? I'm not organized enough to remember which is which). So as a result I am looking at a highly cluttered desk which I thought I cleaned off a few days ago but which has returned to its natural chaotic state, I am trying to figure out how I have nothing in the house for dinner tonight even though I swore I did meal plans for the week, and I can't find anything to wear in my closet.

Scientists define momentum as the fact that an object in motion will stay in motion unless another force acts on it (or it runs into one of the piles on my desk). Diet experts describe the body's set-point, a weight to which it constantly returns, unless you change your metabolism through major exercise. I think creative chaos is analogous - no matter how many times I clean my desk, sort my files, draw up meal plans or re-organize my closet, my life wants to return to its natural state. (Sometimes I envision the papers on my desk coming to life when I'm not here, like the toys in Toy Story or the cows in a Gary Larson cartoon - "Whoops, she's coming, everyone back to lying around, but this time in messier piles!")

So no matter what we do, organization is destined to return to chaos - as a matter of fact, I think I have an article proving that scientifically, only I'm not sure where it is. I will continue to be an optimist, making to-do lists, sorting piles, doing that semi-annual, very satisfying, closet clean-out (THAT's where I put those cute capris that make me look skinny!). But it's nice to know that when my best-laid plans eventually fall apart, it isn't totally my fault.

Our Closets, Our Selves

Back in the '70s, awareness of our own bodies seemed to be the prerequisite for self-knowledge. (Anyone else remember reading Our Bodies Our Selves and trying to find her cervix using a hand mirror?) At other times, the key-du-jour was spirituality, or feng shui, or knowing what color your parachute was. But I think the real secret is examining our closets.

I share a decent-sized one with my husband, and it's not a total mess, but it does say something about the chaos of my life. There are a few choice outfits, tons of clothes that sort-of-fit-but-aren't-that-flattering, a few slightly stained or pilled items, and those random piles that don't belong anywhere (the sweater I meant to fix, the jeans that need hemming, the workout clothes that don't have a drawer because I use them so rarely). And this economy has spawned a number of helpful articles with titles like "Go Shopping In Your Closet!", which makes me think, geez, who'd want to shop in this dump?, so I know I need to do some major overhauling. Time for a closet purge again, and even though starting isn't fun, it does make me feel lighter and cleaner (but don't worry, I won't extend the purge metaphor any further).

And it got me thinking about closets as a representation of our personalities. I imagine my analytical engineer neighbor having a perfectly neat closet with all the shirts facing the same direction, and my fashionista girlfriend might have a cool sections grouped by style and an artistic display of accessories. Mine is slightly scattered and chaotic, lots of excess bogging it down, but very colorful (what can I say, I like fuschia!), so I want to keep the cheerful creativity and get a bit more orderly, just like in my life. (My husband once took a seminar that was an offshoot of EST or Lifespring or one of those all-day-no-bathroom-break-marathons, and the one piece of advice he still remembers was that when you're feeling like your life is out of control, start by cleaning out your car. The teacher was a man - I'll bet a woman would've recommended cleaning a closet!)

Closets are already a useful metaphor, being a place to store skeletons, or out of which to come, or into which to stuff shameful secrets, so it makes sense that they could tell us a great deal about ourselves. I'm going to clean out my closet so that it says 'Unique and creative but uncluttered and on top of things', and I can achieve useful self knowledge without ever having to look at my cervix again.